Resident Evil: Bloodlust
by AstralSpectre
Summary: Corporation conspiracies, horrifying plagues, and bioterror continue in this original thrillerhorror. Taking place some time after Resident Evil 4, the plot expands even more while taking you deep into a sinister man's crazy realm.
1. Chapter 1

Resident Evil : Bloodlust

Prologue

The destruction of the wretched Illuminados' military facility was beautiful, not that it quite compared to that of their ridiculous rural hometown's demise. Both the village and the stone castle were razed, the last remaining residents dying dumbly beneath it. Did they think they could save it? Of course, as long as their leader still existed...but Saddler was already dead. That meant it was working.

A smile came upon the face of the enigmatic man, a sickly smile that insinuated thrill, satisfaction, and wonder at the thought of it all. And in spite of all the mishaps and events of the past, the strands of sanity still ran strongly and smoothly. But he was also aware that the wondrous potion, for lack of better terms, gave him a somewhat more violent and sadistic behavior. No worries there, it suited him. Nonetheless, he was still pretty much in control, as always.

He ran a black gloved hand through his short blond hair, not a single gray, he noticed, gazing at the broken shards of glass on the ground. His experiments got him just far enough, but...new things were coming up, additions to his many, many plans. HCF had done him well, even though it appeared more like they needed him. They did sort of fund him. However, time to reminisce was running short; it seemed that his guinea pigs were arriving, just where they should. And it seemed even HCF was invited, too. It was hilarious; they funded their own doom. In the long run, though, he'd need loyal recruits...and test animals, for the most climactic moment of his schemes.

Wesker darted for his office, maintaining his poker face; as far as his progress portrayed, he was still a rotten HCF employee...and to those working for him in the shadows, the lost ones, he was the one who'd raise Umbrella atop of a new foundation, to regain its former glory. All fools...if they could only see, only know that the truly strong do not need anyone. Indeed, they use them.

Chapter 1

_Shawn-_

_I'm happy to know that you are as active as always. Shawn, I've heard that you are soon going all the way to Europe on your next mission. I was kind of hoping we could meet again before then, but I guess I will have to just wait. _

_I want to get something off my chest, particularly about us. Ever since you came back from that one job two years ago, you haven't been quite the same. When I finally got to see you, I noticed a kind of look on you, as if everything ceased to interest you. Is it something I did or said? Not that I'm mad or anything, but I thought that you'd be happier to see me and all._

_Maybe it's none of my business. But if you need someone to talk to, about anything at all, your job, your problems, I'll always be right here waiting. Please come back safe._

_Love Always,_

_Constance_

The train hummed lightly, sparing Shawn the silence he needed. After reading the letter, he glanced out his window. There was a majestic view; mountains, valleys, rivers. He was finally there. After flying to a U.S. embassy in France, he rendezvoused and departed to a village in Romania via train. The trip seemed tedious, but to Shawn traveling was enjoyable. However, this was no vacation. Shawn knew that what he was tasked to do was of utmost importance. Sure the sightseeing was fun and sure he wanted to go home already. However, once he'd arrive at the small base, he'd be "James Bond" again. There, he would be briefed on his exact objectives.

Shawn's thoughts drifted back to Constance's letter again. Things have been different after that incident. Never had he imagined things could get so grim. The recent "cannibal" attacks scattered at random spots out in the mid-west, those dead people, the moans...

BUMP-

The train jumped slightly, waking him from his horrifying reverie of an operation gone awry.

"Enough of that. That's all over now." He thought about her and his loved ones. Could the same happen to them? Would they be...

He shook off that thought, too. Thinking negatively wouldn't keep his girlfriend and family out of harm's way now would it? He took a deep breath and got up. Dressed in ordinary civilian clothing, a gray sweater and some jeans, he blended pretty well among the other passengers. The only difference was the pain-in-the-ass briefcase he had to lug. Stuffing the letter into his pocket, he brushed his dark hair away from his eyes. He had to keep reminding himself that once at the base, he wouldn't be Shawn Brown anymore.

He glanced at the mirror hanging on the wall of his compartment. His twenty-six-year-old face looked frail and weathered. His brown eyes appeared sullen, his chiseled features adding to his glum aspect. He was generally a well-built, average man in person, having a balanced personality. When with friends, he was funny, witty, caring, and daring. Somehow, he changed into a person who was quiet, depressed, and sometimes cold. It would take time to repair himself so that he could enjoy life again.

The train came to a halt. At that moment, Shawn grabbed his things and attempted to open the door, a "how to speak Romanian" book held in his mouth. He stepped out of his room and got off the ramshackle box they called a train. For a second he wondered how one of America's top agents ended up riding this thing, but then just mentally shrugged.

The mission was carried out by the President himself. As a matter of fact, another renowned agent was just recently sent somewhere near Europe to rescue Mr. President's daughter, Ashley, who was kidnaped just a little while ago. When the agent reported back to HQ, he was just leaving some nearby island with the girl safe and sound. Now, according to him, some man named Albert Wesker was behind the kidnaping. It was Shawn's job, among others, to intercept his path based on some unknown, yet supposedly reliable source.

Shawn's thoughts trailed off as a smiling man approached him. Feeling rather ambitious, Shawn took the book from his mouth and flipped through some pages. What he meant to say was "Good morning, how are you?" From the way the man raised his eyebrow in confusion, he assumed he may have said something a little off.

"Maybe I should just play mute for a while . . . " Shawn thought to himself.

He grabbed hold of his things again; he had to wait for a man named Randolph. He sat on the nearest bench, rubbing his hands together. The frigid air of the Transylvania Alps sent chills all over him, yet the pleasant view made it all worthwhile. Someone then just blocked his view. It was that foreign man again.

A second time, Shawn grabbed his book, hesitated, and wondered what he had told him the first time.

"Geez, I hope I didn't give the guy the wrong idea . . . "

"You can put that book away, Shawn," said the man with a strong accent. "I know why you are here, so let's get right down to business."

"...Randolph, huh?" he thought.

"'Where should I stay?'" Shawn asked him, a code given to him by his superior. Surely enough, the man replied with the correct response.

"'Well, at the Owl's Inn, of course.'"

"So, where _do_ I stay, Randolph?" Shawn asked, grinning slightly.

"Right this way Mr. Brown," signaled Randolph with equal the grin. He helped him with the luggage and they started for a car. After throwing the stuff in the trunk, they got in and headed east.

"Uh, isn't the rendezvous point north of here?" questioned Shawn quizzically.

"Sure," responded Randolph, who at this time was already driving. "However, if I were to do that, we'd be running smack into a rather enormous mountain range. You should study Romania's geography more, outsider."

"Oh, right, I just forgot."

Randolph glanced at Shawn through his rearview mirror.

"So, have you heard the rumors?" he asked.

"...What rumors?"

"There's been a number of murders recently up in the Alps. It began happening ever since your president ordered this operation. They said the victims were sucked dry of their blood, not a single drop in them."

"And what would you know about this 'operation' anyway?" inquired Shawn with curiosity.

"Don't be so suspicious of me, Mr. Brown. I just overheard some of your people speaking about it. Nothing big. Besides, the mere fact that I've been sent to escort a U.S. agent through the region is probably enough to convince me of that."

"So, I should be careful of vampires is what you are saying. I'll keep that in mind, Randolph." The Romanian man smirked, his face and long brown hair the only things visible on him. And even then, Shawn never took a good look at his eyes, being as he wore what looked almost like a large top hat.

"Mr. Brown, you humor me with your smart talk. You know vampires are only legend...don't you?"

"I wouldn't count on that," replied Shawn with a more somber expression.

"? You mean to tell me you believe in the paranormal?"

"I have seen plenty to say that a few vampires may not be too far-fetched."

"Well, Mr. Brown, I'll be sure to keep that in mind," mocked Randolph.

After a half-hour drive, they reached a secluded area filled with strange looking weeds, lots of mud everywhere, and a bigger view of the mountains in the background. With an unsettling feeling deep in his gut, Shawn left the car and took his briefcases. Randolph then called him over.

"Listen, there's an inn down in town called Red Horizon. That's where you're staying. Just continue following the trail up ahead and you should get there. Blavoc is a peaceful spot, so you should be able to relax there easily. Oh, and be careful, about those cultists, too."

"Don't worry," Shawn said with a clever look on his face. "I always bring garlic and holy water in my briefcases."

"Smart-ass Americans..."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It was getting late, the darkness settling down on the land, and Shawn had been walking for what seemed like hours. Randolph couldn't be lying; the U.S. government had all his personal background information and everything. He figured a background check was all it took to keep anybody in line.

Shawn peered down the edge of the hill he was on, taking note of the plentiful trees and shrubs all along the path. Seeing several houses well lit seemed to lighten his mood.

"Civilization at last. Was starting to believe I was on a nature walk..."

As he glanced away, he noticed the path he was on seemed to deviate away from town. The only way in would be through the forest. Hesitating, he reached into his pockets and loaded his Beretta. There was no way he would take any chances against an animal or -

"- or a vampire?" he thought sarcastically.

It took him another thirty minutes to navigate through the shrubbery. Strangely, there appeared to be no signs of animal life that he could see. Except for a couple of dead birds, which he found a bit unusual, no other creatures inhabited the area. Yet, he wasn't complaining. He was out and in one piece. The entrance to Blavoc was up ahead. A wooden arch with a rural type of design signified this.

"The Red Horizon."

The inn stood there in plain sight, the lights glowing from the many windows. Shawn was quite impressed by the structure.

"Looks better than the freaking train. At least they chose the right town to stay at."

The little town looked like anything you'd see on a traveling ad. A peaceful, cozy town, full of wondrous sights and interesting, hospitable people, and all the clean air. Who knew, maybe this would turn out to be some sort of vacation spot for him.

He stepped in the motel-like inn and took a look around. The lobby was a piece of work, with rugs, antique chairs, and even a chandelier hanging at the center of the room. The front register where the clerk would be seemed vacant. There wasn't a soul in sight.

"Must be taking a bathroom break or something," he thought.

Shawn started up the carpeted stairs, hoping that the note he left stating he was from the United States agency was enough for the time being. After all, he needed to report to his superiors and everything. He wasn't informed of this meeting since he departed.

He took the only room that wasn't locked. For an ordinary village out here in the Alps, things weren't so bad. The room was pretty large and well maintained, almost as if these people were specifically waiting him. After unpacking, he took out his laptop and attempted to contact someone from his platoon. There must have been some kind of discrepancy on where they were to meet or something.

"Damn it, why...?"

No matter how many times he tried, Shawn could not connect to the communication link on the computer. Something around the area must've prevented him from using it. Frustrated, he headed downstairs barefoot, hoping somebody was down there. Yet why they wouldn't have checked up on him was beyond comprehension. He even made sure his Romanian was right this time.

He entered the lobby and like he guessed, no one was there.

"Well, I guess they wouldn't mind if I use their phone."

As he picked up the phone attached to the flower designed wall, he noticed a crinkled up piece of paper laying on a small ornamental table. The handwriting was shaky...and in Romanian. Sighing, he attempted to read it. Something told him it was probably some emergency notice informing people that they'd be out for awhile.

"G-g..et..."

Shawn nearly had it. It said... "Get out of here, now..."

He squinted anxiously at the brooding message.

"Umma, get out of here, now! Something here ... right. There were screams...they killed and ate ...acted like... vampire- "

At that sudden moment, he froze. Were the rumors actually true? He held up his gun, listening carefully for any faint sounds. Nothing. Although his Romanian was horrendous, he could definitely make out the word "vampire". And by the way this person wrote this letter-

There was a creek somewhere in the large inn, the sound of a door opening very carefully. It seemed to come from behind the stairway he came down from. Tensed and ready, Shawn slowly approached the hall he'd came from. There were no other sounds; he was walking barefoot on a rug. The silence drove him to the point that he began hearing things.

"Have to stay focused..."

Shawn held the gun firmer, and his breathing became heavy. To him, there were no such things as vampires, but since that incident...

Another sound came from what looked like the kitchen. The room was a light baby blue color. The nicely decorated tile floor seemed somewhat insidious as he approached. Every step he took closer, he could hear an eerie lurching noise, like someone crawling away from that room. He was close enough to see the counters and stove tops, and that was when he noticed. There was a splatter of dried blood on the tile floor. As he leaned forward, what laid sprawling lifelessly across the cold floor told him something was incredibly wrong here.

"Oh...man..."

The body of a middle-aged man was slumped on the floor, as pale as the kitchen counters. When he got near enough, he saw the bloodied face of the man, an expression of inexplicable pain engraved on it. As expected, two red deep holes stood out from the ghostly white skin. Whatever did this must not have been so human...

Back where he came, there were suddenly light footsteps. They headed upstairs...

"What the hell...?"

Whoever, or whatever, did this, went around the other way. They were here the whole time. Shawn quickly got up and jogged lightly toward the stairs, pistol up in the air.

"Please let this be some freak accident, please..."

Despite the amount of experience and courage he had as an agent, nothing made him feel more like a kid than the supernatural, especially when they were occurring in reality.

The stairway creaked a little as he edged toward the top. Down the slim hall where the vacant rooms of visitors lined, there was a shadowy figure. Surely it was...

"You," he called out sternly, "don't move, err..." He paused, suddenly remembering that these people all spoke Romanian. Regardless, the entity turned around. Only its oval head could be seen. All details were shrouded in the darkness. Just then, Shawn noticed that the strange thing had broken one of the hanging lamps that illuminated the hall. Was it annoyed by the light?

Shawn carefully rummaged through his pockets to find the mini flashlight he used in the woods. Gun pointed at its direction, he shown the light on the hunched-over creature, and its eyes reflected back. It became startled and shrieked violently. In the light, it appeared to be a...

"...W-what on earth..."

The creature looked _dead_. The face was as pale as the dead man's down in the kitchen. Blood mixed with drool, which covered its mouth and teeth, dripped down on the ground as it snarled at his presence. It seemed to be male, its white bald head peeling and...rotting. His clothes were tattered and he was barefooted, no socks or anything. It moaned hungrily...

"...like those from..."

For a second, he thought of "Operation Biohazard", the mission he was sent on in a backwater town in the U.S. Those poor people, they were...

"Zombies."

This thing standing before him reminded him of that. Did the same thing happen to him?

The zombie creature approached steadily, eyes glowing inhumanly as its gaze met his perfectly. Its hands shook with excitement as it readied itself. It lunged from nearly ten feet away, surprising Shawn who shot without hesitation. The zombie was blown back. It jumped right back up, as if it were just shoved to the ground. There was a hole on its chest where he had shot it, however, there was no blood seeping out. The thin creature attempted a second time, this time trying to slash him with putrid nails. Shawn couldn't react as quick this time and had to step back to avoid the assault. He fell down the small set of stairs which led to the larger one, his back slamming painfully against one of the steps.

"Shit-"

He recovered promptly and aimed once more at it. It licked feverishly at its hand, which was covered with some blood. Once he felt the sharp pain on his left arm, he realized why. Completely oblivious to Shawn's bearings, he then took this time to train his Beretta on its repulsive head and shot away. A wet noise and a sudden cry from the monster indicated that it was effective. The creature did not move.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Against the stairway wall stood Shawn, still in shock. Silence once again filled the empty inn. There were way too many thoughts coursing through his head to make anything of this situation. Slowly, he caught his breath and decided he'd get his things and get the hell out, find somebody in town who could help.

The body was perfectly still, unusually stiff. It was almost as if it entered its dead state again. Whether or not the little shit could back to life he didn't care to find out. He entered his room, the door slightly open. That was when he heard it, screams coming from outside. He glanced out the window. Darkness flooded much of his view, but the sounds of actual people yelling, the strangled, muffled voices of them dying...

"What the hell is going on in this town?" he asked himself. He was packing his stuff and putting on his boots and jacket when some hissing noise came from outside. The next thing he knew, the windows downstairs shattered, the audible noise pulsing in his ears.

"Damn, I have to get out quick..."

He obviously couldn't tote around two enormous briefcases and a handgun and expect to defend himself. He sought for his spare handgun clips hidden in some of his compartments in the cases. With that in hand, he jolted for downstairs.

SHHHHHHHHBOOOOOOM!

The whole house shook at the explosion as Shawn held on to the walls of the stairway.

"They frickin tossed an explosive in here!" he thought, wondering who was behind all this.

UHHHHHHHGH...

He heard a raspy sigh at the bottom of the stairway. He directed the Beretta where the sound came from, and then noticed that the body from the kitchen stood right before his eyes. The man, still pale and still dead, approached dumbly in his direction, the same twisted expression glued to his face. The neck still had the two holes...

Shawn aimed for the head, shot, and saw the creature fall.

"Guess it's dead..."

As he proceeded down the corridor, he was surprised to see the thing get right back up, only a couple feet away from him. Shawn staggered back and kicked the creature right back down, and was rewarded with a stifled moan from it.

"Have to stay away..."

BOOOOOM!

Another explosion sounded from upstairs. That probably meant all his stuff was trashed. No longer caring, he raced toward the front where he'd came.

"Get the American!" said a coarse voice from just outside. It was in Romanian, but he understood the words well enough. Suddenly, there were tons of them; the same walking stiffs from the dead, only their faces were all covered in blood. Shawn expected the worst for the civilians here.

The cultists were holding torches, axes, and what appeared to be makeshift flares or explosives of some sort. He heard from around the back, too. Simply put, he was screwed. They had ambushed him and were prepared to take desperate measures to kill him.

Like a miracle just waiting there, Shawn saw what could actually be his savior. Just as he thought, the thing hanging on the wall was a 12 gauge shotgun. He hoped the thing was used for protection rather than decoration; he needed it to be loaded. Shawn grabbed the thing, realizing it was a hunting shotgun, some model he'd never seen before. The cultists were already climbing into the house through broken windows, coming closer, wide-eyed and deranged-looking. The one he knocked over at the stairway was just several feet away as well.

Immediately, Shawn blasted the first group of them away, muted shouts of pain coming from that direction. Knowing the gun was loaded, Shawn smiled and aimed at the next group. He must have shot an explosive, for the pieces of their flesh rained down around him. Dozens more came from the shadows, and it sounded like a couple more dozens were breaking in from the back.

"Shit, I can't hold on much longer."

Two more shotgun blasts, and he was out. He tossed the gun and took out his handgun. It was going to be a rough ride.

Suddenly, some loud noise sounded from just outside, distracting even the zombie-things. In a mere flash, seven to ten of the creatures were blown to bits. The noise sounded like a motorcycle. Just then, the mutants started for the sound, only to be mowed down by some fully automatic weapon! Could help be on its way?

He was right. Someone on a motorcycle drove right into the house, running down the zombie from the stairway with a gross "squish". The vehicle swerved around and was ready to depart.

"Thanks, man. I would've been minced meat if it weren't for you..."

At that point, Shawn didn't care if the rider had understood what he said. He'd be out of town in no time. He jumped on board the bike, held on with one hand, and carried the Uzi the driver had left there for him.

The zombies from the rear ran into the room, but the biker was way ahead of the game. Driving away, the motorcycle deviated

toward the right and continued down the rural roadway of the town. Dressed in black and donning a rather large helmet, Shawn's savior was truly mysterious, but must've really trusted him to just hand him a machine gun like that. Hopefully it _was_ an agent he knew.

As the cycle rode around, Shawn saw the remains of the town and its people. All over, houses were being burnt down and people were being sacrificed, blood spilled everywhere. All these images swirled violently into his head. How could this happen? Who was behind it all? What was he to do? Did this have any correlation to his duties?

"My God..."

These cultists were beyond deranged; they were monsters. They withstood gunfire and drank blood and ate flesh. And what was more cryptic was that they specifically wanted him dead. What did they know about him and the mission?

Several more groups of creatures blocked the mystery driver's path. Coming to a full stop, Shawn aimed the gun in their direction and fired, a loud, rapid noise giving him somewhat of a high. It felt great to mow down these sons of bitches after what they've done. Once they fell and didn't get back up, the biker proceeded down the road. His driving skills were astounding. He drove up hills, jumped up, and landed perfectly, no sweat.

They approached a bridge, most likely a way out of town, when another mob of those strange people stood in their way. Their eyes lit up unnaturally in the front light of the bike. They ran eagerly toward them, readying axes and even shotguns! Shawn's Uzi's weren't even enough to take them all out...

The driver tossed something, a gray metallic object...a grenade. Following his lead, Shawn fired at the object and-

BOOM-

The majority of the creatures were massacred, and as for the rest, they fell along with the destroyed bridge. While the immediate threat was gone for the time being, their way out was gone, gone with his hopes...

"Come on," said the driver, his voice low and hard to hear.

They came by an area filled with trees, just around the bend of the forest. Again, the way he drove was unbelievable, not even skinning any of the trees as he sped down. Before Shawn knew it, they were alone in the solitude of a forest and a nearby cave.

When they came to a stop, Shawn waltzed off, staring the driver down. He was pretty thin for a man. Shawn didn't keep his eyes off of him, still untrusting of him. The driver took off his helmet and down came long, wavy, blond hair. The driver unzipped the jacket a bit to reveal cleavage. The driver was a woman...

She turned around and smiled. Her beautiful face did not even suggest a hint of what she had done back in town. She walked toward him.

"What, didn't expect a chick to be riding like this?" she said.

"Didn't even expect you to speak English," he replied. "Just who are you anyway?" The girl slowly faced the other way.

"You're not from my squad...and you're definitely not a native here..." Shawn continued.

"That's right. And I saved your skin. So, could you please save me the questioning?" Shawn became a bit less tense around her all the sudden.

"Well, could I at least ask your name?"

"It's Eva," she said simply.

"My name's-"

Before he could even reply, she interrupted and said, "Shawn Brown, right? You're real famous around these parts. These mongoloids are always mentioning you. Guess you'll be the talk of the town now..."

"What happened down there wasn't a joke!" he scolded.

"It was going to happen whether you liked it or not! Those people knew what was coming. They just decided to feign ignorance. Signs of vampire creatures lurking in the woods, disappearing members of town..."

"...and dead people and animals found everywhere, huh?" Shawn finished. Eva looked up at him with interest.

"You know what's going on, don't you?" she asked him.

"...No, not a clue, but something similar happened to me before I came here. I knew there was a link."

"Remember the legends of vampires...like the one of Count Dracula?" she asked.

"Yeah, so? Don't tell me it's all real..."

"Not exactly. What if I told you there was some truth to it all?" At that moment, Shawn grinned nervously.

"...I'd think you were trying to insinuate that you were..."

"Be serious, Shawn! What I mean is that vampires are skulking around, and that it is a result of an ancient parasite spread through blood contact."

"Well, why did you save..."

"Ah! No questioning, did you forget? I'm just here to make right what a couple of jerk-offs did around here." She got back on her bike, and grabbed for her helmet.

"Listen to me carefully. Head into this cave and follow the path. Trust me, it's much safer than being out here where they can detect you. I'll even let you keep my Uzi's. When you get out, I'll be waiting for you there."

"And you...?"

"I'll be fine. I just can't be seen by them for awhile. Just trust me. I gotta get going." With those final words, she put on her helmet, started up her bike, and it roared off with her.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The building wouldn't last much longer. And if that wasn't much of a problem, there was also the fact that the creatures outside just kept increasing in numbers. It was a matter of time before the bolted front door would give.

Samantha paced back and forth, her hands rubbing painfully against her forehead. She looked once more at the searing walls of the embassy, its inevitable destruction just seconds away. Then, she glanced back at the door. She was incredibly lucky today, if that's what one would think of it; she managed to avoid the chaotic scene at the city square on her way to work, did not get blown to bits or eaten alive by those crazed arsonists, and the old-fashioned wooden double doors at the front kept the psychos at bay, at least for a short while.

"Damn it, now what!"

Who would've known that being an interpreter could bring on something like this? She had been at the city of Mene for about three months concerning an important trial involving the U.S. and several Romanian officials. She knew this was a one-time opportunity, so like anyone would, she accepted. However, what pissed her off even more was the fact that her job did shit to help her get the hell out alive. She could only damn herself for not being a cop or an agent or something. Then again, if that were true...

"_...I wouldn't be here right now..."_

The pounding on the battered door became extreme and the assailants' screams even more so. Samantha knew that going up the building was as good as jumping off a bridge, so she had to choose between a very limited lists of actions.

She ran through several hallways, most of them partially blown to rubble. Both her hands and her teeth were clenched tightly as she dashed past broken bodies of people she once worked with, but she wouldn't stop running, not even if she saw any movement. They'd all just become like them...

Finally she reached the employees' parking lot, a very risky place to go to, but if she was quick enough she could find her friend's jeep and drive off. Timothy Jones surely wouldn't need it. Puffs of dust and smoke fell gently from the lot's ceilings, mocking the danger looming in moments. She raced around, feeling dizzy and out of breath. How could this be happening? Would she die right here in this building?

VROOM!

Out of the dust flew a sleek, red car, unscathed despite the situation. It was an angel with wheels! Samantha nearly dove in front of the car, no longer caring if it would run her down.

"HEY! Please help me..."

Before she could even finish, the driver stopped, called to her and said, "In, now!" Together they zoomed out of the lot and onto the city streets. She sighed shakily and glanced at the guy to say thanks, but he broke out first.

"I'm Drake."

"Not Romanian, huh?" she said, trying to hide the terror behind her voice.

"Yes, actually, I am Romanian." He made a sharp turn and she practically fell out of her seat. He took a look at her name tag and smirked. "Sam...that's a nice name."

"..."

What an awkward man, she thought. He didn't seem phased by what was occurring. The streets were filled with yelling people and horrible monsters, and he was talking like nothing. At least he was driving the hell out, going twenty above the speed limit. If any creature, or person for that matter, got in the way, they were dead meat. Then again, those things running around weren't exactly alive. She finally looked back at Drake and asked him the question she should've asked sooner.

"...Where are you taking us?"

"Somewhere safe, of course," he simply answered.

"Well, where is this 'safe place', Drake?"

"A village just around the bend," he said casually, no expression on his face whatsoever. "Don't worry, I just received a call from a villager there. Just relax."

_Yeah, just relax, everyone's getting killed and/or eaten, I'm probably trapped in this country, and I should just...relax!_

The car jumped up all of the sudden, an explosion behind them as if it were just a couple feet away. Samantha didn't bother looking back, already knowing that it was the building she would've died in if it weren't for this Drake guy. She should've been grateful, but she couldn't find it in her to trust him.

"Hey, is this village near an airport or something?" she asked nervously. "I mean, this is near Transylvania, a tourist spot. There's gotta be an airport somewhere nearby."

The man's blue eyes remained fixed to the road, a somewhat blank look on his face, like everything was cool. The way he dressed seemed typical of an American: a tight black muscle shirt, a denim jacket, jeans, and boots. His jet black hair was combed slickly to the back; he was a tourist.

"Please tell me you know where we're going," Samantha asked calmly, expecting a calm reply of "yes". But she didn't get an answer. Instead, Drake stopped the car on the middle of the road, one near a large forest. He got out and looked back, then fell on his knees. The young man just knelt there, and that's when it hit Samantha.

She too got out of the car, not knowing what to do or say. Just her luck...

"Get up! Now's not the time to lose it, we have to get out of here!" she shouted. The man turned to her and got up, apparently not in shock anymore. He planted his face so close to her, she had to back up.

"Everyone's dead! Everyone! My wife, my newborn son, my brother...EVERYONE! Do you expect me to goddamn get up and escape for you're stupid ass!"

He put his hands on his head, breathing heavily. Then, he glanced from the forest to the girl's anxious face. Drake could only look at the ground.

"I-I'm sorry...I"

"Don't worry...I don't know what exactly happened to you down there, but I'm gonna have to ask you to remain calm and to clear your mind. I know that seems next to impossible, but we're dealing with armed schizophrenics who would think of us as lunch. So...will you help me?"

Drake just sat down on the asphalt, his arms wrapped around his legs like a child.

"I should've be the one saying that stuff to you, shouldn't I have?"

"..."

After an awkward silence, Samantha walked over to the car and got into the driver's seat. Just as she was about to close the door, something pulled back at it. Drake forced a somewhat bittersweet grin.

"Move over, we're getting the hell out."

S H A W N

The tunnel was very damp and chilly, causing Shawn to shiver. Supposedly, it was safer than running around up there. Why she wouldn't just take him along he didn't know, but she certainly was the only one he could trust at the moment. She was the only human alive, and she did save him.

"Damn her for making me go through this..."

A thin layer of fog seeped as he descended deeper into the cave. He readied his handgun before entering, not wanting to waste any precious ammo the Uzi's had. He couldn't help but sense there was something in the cave. The entrance was rather narrow, but the tunnel seemed to expand as he progressed. Eventually, he hit what looked like the main chamber.

"God, she better be at the other end of the cave with reinforcements, all armed with bazookas and rifles," he said to himself. The silence broken every second by the constant drops of water didn't make him feel any more calmer, so talking was his next best option.

The chamber was a decent size, the majority of it a large grove collecting water that dripped from stalactites. Whatever else was past the pond, Shawn could not see it. The darkness surrounded every nook in the cave. He took out his flashlight immediately, trying to find where the path continued.

Besides the odor of strong humidity, there was a stench so strong, one he'd grown to recognize as the stench of rot. His senses became suddenly alert, reminding him that what he smelled was that of death. The flashlight wandered toward the source, and his heart sank at the sight. There were human pieces scattered all over the ground. The most obvious piece, the hand, seemed days old, the dank cave helping the decomposition. Something _was_ down here. A few steps closer, and he could see some other red, sticky substance near the gore. It wasn't until he saw the khaki pants stained with dark blood that he recognized it as the lower torso of the poor victim.

"Ugh, that smell..."

As he edged past the mangled parts, he noticed something next to the body. It was a block of some sort, only it had a funny-looking design on it. Upon closer inspection, he distinguished the writing from the back of it. The words were simple enough to read in Romanian, but he could make nothing of it. "Dragon's Den" was what he was certain it said.

Shawn no longer cared what it said or meant, and after procuring it, he continued down the path, his handgun in sync with his flashlight. The following chambers he found had an even denser fog, blocking his view completely. After realizing this, he was forced to stop in his tracks.

"Great, now I'll have to feel my way through?" Even as his instincts roared out in disapproval, he knew he had no other choice. Who knew if those cannibals were following him?

The path spiraled about, leading him even further down into the depths of the cavern. Just when he thought things couldn't get worse...

There was a noise from behind like that of small rocks smacking hard onto something. He veered behind him and saw only mist. No doubt, something had been following him, a predator. Human or not, Shawn did not feel like facing anything in the thick air. He quickly pulled out his arm to the right to feel for the wall, turned around, and started jogging. He knew his attempt to scurry off with muted steps failed when he heard his stalker do the same, the sound of soft, fleshy feet directly behind him.

"Gotta go, now!" he shouted in his head. He had to have run smack into six or seven walls as he dashed for an escape route. Even so, he could still here its footsteps and its sharp, quick breaths like a lion giving chase to its prey. It wasn't until a couple of seconds more that Shawn saw the mist recede, a sign of an exit.

"Thank you, God..."

The footsteps behind instantly sounded off the walls, then onto the ceiling. His pursuer chased him from the roof of the cave! A gust of air provoked him to speed up, the high-pitched "swoosh" of something sharp cutting the very air behind his neck. An opening appeared at the end of the tunnel, and Shawn dove, tucked, and rolled to lose the creature. When he got up from the stunt, he found himself about two feet away from a giant chasm. Carefully, he turned around and saw nothing but the fog.

"Gave up already?" he joked, trying to catch his breath while familiarizing himself with the new chamber. It was bigger than any of the other ones, yet there was no mugginess whatsoever. Shawn took one last deep breath and continued up the path. That's when he heard it, a shrill unlike anything he'd ever heard. He turned once more and saw his stalker lurking closer to him. At first, he thought it was another zombie creature, but when he saw bat-like wings attached to its arms and its thin, bony body, he knew it was something he could not logically explain.

"Wait...that parasite..."

It opened its rancid wings, revealing its cadaverous face. With eyes glowing a bright yellow, it shrilled once more and exposed razor sharp teeth, its incisors elongated to the point it resembled more of a vampire. It then climbed the wall and onto the ceiling, making it nearly invisible.

Shawn looked around for any alternatives to his predicament. He turned up the path toward his exit and could see light piercing through the darkness of the cave.

"Salvation," he thought. As he made his way up, he heard it again, scrambling about above him, and before he could react, it grabbed hold of his shoulders, its decaying face near his. It endeavored to bite him, but only caught some of his jacket between its peculiar jaws. In retribution, Shawn took out a spare dagger he always kept with him and stabbed it straight into its eye. The bat-like creature shrieked miserably, dropped him down, and took out the dagger and tossed it aside.

"Hasta la vista..." he said, feeling dumb for talking Spanish rather than Romanian. As the creature writhed in pain, Shawn blasted two shots from his pistol, one in its emaciated chest and another through its right wing. It dropped to the floor, violently seething in pain. A final kick and down the cliff and it went with an echoing screech that couldn't feel more satisfying.

He picked up his dagger and froze again at what he heard. A dozen more shrieks sounded from somewhere beyond the cave's walls. More of those things were approaching! And when he saw five to eight more of them fly out of the shadowy background, he could swear he was forbidden to leave.

Shawn spun and kicked down the very first one that lunged at him, sending it flying backward. Another attempted the same feat, but was rewarded with a stab to the throat. He kicked that one off the edge. The other savage monsters took more heed, fluttering in an undulating pattern, just like bats.

"Come on..."

The next one tried to swerve left to right before diving, but Shawn shot a wing and it tumbled down the walls of the cliff and into the void of darkness.

Some of them began to attack all at once, trying to take him by surprise, but he had expected that. Shawn took out his Uzi's that Eva had given him and blasted them down. In no time at all, four of the screaming things fell down dead. The remaining few actually retreated, and Shawn sighed in relief; he made it, practically unscathed, too. Except for several minor bruises and scrapes, he survived the horrors of the wretched cave.

"Very good, Mr. Brown," came a voice from his only exit.

"Who the hell..."

That voice, Shawn knew it, but it wasn't until he saw him that he shook his head in disbelief.

"Randolph, what the hell is going on!"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked, his face hidden again by only a scarf. "Come on, you didn't actually think that the village I led you to was the rendezvous point, did you?"

"You bastard, you planned this all out! Who are you for real!" Randolph tilted his head slightly, his long, black scraggly hair gleaming in the emanating light.

"Why, I'm Randolph, of course," he replied playfully.

At that moment, Shawn pointed his handgun at him.

"I want answers!"

"Answers? I simply spied on a couple of your pathetic American sympathizers, particularly at the one meant to take you past the Alps. I killed him after dusk, assumed his role, and was never questioned after that. After all, they did think I was 'Randolph'. Several of my fellow cohorts also did the same to the others. They're most likely dead and..."

"You son of a..."

His words were cut off as he was knocked off the ledge next to him. Shawn dangled off the ledge with one arm and saw the flying vampire that assaulted him. He struggled to pull himself back up, hoping the creature wouldn't swoop down at him.

Surely enough it came at him with razor sharp nails and fangs, but he was quick enough to pull out the gun and shoot directly between its eyes, sending it spinning down like a dead fly. He immediately pulled himself up with what little strength he had left.

"Haha, perhaps I underestimated you," said Randolph as he left, "but don't worry, we'll meet again. You can count on it."

S A M A N T H A

Again there was a silence that seemed to bother Sam as she sat anxiously beside the driver, Drake. He appeared to be more with it as opposed to before, but she couldn't find herself to say anything else to the guy.

Feeling there was no use in trying, she glanced out her window, relieved to see some nice scenery and no explosions, fires, blood, or anything like that. Perhaps it was all just an abhorrent riot started by some foreign cults. It was highly unlikely, but thinking like that was her thing; she should be relaxed and grateful that she lived and had the opportunity to leave. Sam plastered on a grin and looked at Drake, who in response smiled nervously back.

"So, do you know where the nearest airport is? I mean, I've tried calling the police, the nearest departments in other towns and all, but all communication was cut off..."

Drake began to turn pale.

"...I want to get as far away from this place as possible, so are we going..."

She trailed off at the grim expression on his face; he knew something.

"...Sam, the nearest airports have been razed. Even the airplanes were scrapped! I found out just before finding you. These people mean serious business..."

"So, we're trapped here..."

"Until we find a place that hasn't been massacred by them yet..."

Seemingly out of nowhere, the ground beneath the speeding car began to undulate. The tremor became violent to the point where they were literally five feet above the road.

"Shit!" she screamed, as the car flew into the air and crashed down onto the ground on the driver's side with a terrifying display of glass shattering and metal folding inward. Sam's eyes were closed shut for several seconds. She could only hear the sound of the glass falling all over and the silence the aftermath brought forth. However, she didn't hear any signs of Drake.

"Drake...Drake! Answer me if you're okay!" she called out shakily.

"Uhhhhh...ugh..."

She leaned over his slump body, deathly afraid to see in what condition he was in. When she did so, she immediately saw traces of blood on the wheel and dashboard.

_Shit..._

Sam unbuckled herself and went straightaway to the slumped body. If he was dead, she'd be not only alone, but lost and weaponless. She turned over his body, the left side of his face bloodied. With much hesitation, she checked for his pulse. He was still alive and breathing.

"Come on, Drake, you can make it," she muttered to herself and to him unknowingly. She searched for his immediate wound, promising herself that no matter how gruesome the scene, she wouldn't lose her cool.

Below his left ribs, the blood poured out in minor amounts, apparently a flesh wound. She assumed that wasn't the source. Then, she saw it. Lodged deeply into his leg was a long shard of glass, his thigh bleeding persistently. She scoffed at the smell of blood, having smelt enough at the embassy building. First, she had to pull him out. She didn't even bother to wonder what had caused the car to overturn so violently...

She managed to pull him out easily, being aware of his wounds. Sam herself had some minor cuts, but she didn't think much of them. Concentrating on how to get the piece of glass out of his leg was her next goal, but she felt somewhat uncomfortable doing it out next to where the car had irrupted for some inscrutable reason. With what happened in town, she figured pulling him somewhere safer was of great priority.

Drake was still half conscious, his breathing rapid. He occasionally moaned, which was a pretty good sign.

"Come, on, stay with me!" she muttered again, trying her best to lean him onto her shoulder and get him up. There was an old stable where she assumed a farm or ranch once belonged. It would likely be their haven for the moment. In any case, it was abandoned. Once inside, she noticed a flight of wooden stairs that led to a small, upper floor. She gained her grip on his body again and started for the stairs, feeling safer up high.

The upper floor had some old tools used in the rural areas, nothing more. There was a bench, one she could lay him on for the time being. She relaxed his body onto it, and he winced slightly.

She knew what came next. She jolted back to where the car was, certain that there had been a large water bottle in there somewhere. As she checked the vehicle for any other useful items, she began to feel wary, a feeling she learned was caused by instinct. She felt...watched. However, Drake's life was still in her hands; he could easily bleed to death, she thought.

Crouching next to his leg, Sam's hand hovered shakily above it. She knew that when she'd pull out the shard of glass, blood would begin to ooze out voraciously. She'd seen it happen on medical-related television programs back at home...

With a water bottle in one hand, she took hold of the glass carefully, her heart pounding and her body trembling. It was much harder than she imagined. Then, Drake's eyes opened, vaguely aware of his surroundings. Sam hesitated.

"Drake? I need you to do something for me..." she started. "Please...hold your breathe, or something, at least until I tell you to. She ripped a piece of her sweater off, the other portion which she'd also use to bandage the wound, and stuffed it in his mouth and closed his jaw. She closed her eyes and pulled out the glass, the piece sliding smoothly despite the depth it had entered. Sam exhaled deeply upon hearing the muffled groan Drake made. He spit out the rag and breathed desperately. Nearly every curse word flew out of his mouth as she started to wrap the wound and apply pressure to it, another good sign.

"Relax, it'll hurt more if you overreact..."

"W-what just happened?"

"Just rest," she said, looking worriedly at him, his face all sweaty from the pain. "Here, relax a bit. I still need to take care of your cuts."

He splashed water on his face, squealing in pain as she bandaged him up.

"Where are we right now?" he asked.

"In an old stable, I think," she replied. "You're lucky we had some items worthy of being called first aid."

"...thank you...for helping me, even after I was an asshole back there...UGH!"

"Easy!" she said, not able to hide a faint smile. He was too stubborn to listen to her. "You're very welcome. Besides, you're all I've got at the moment, remember?" He forced a smile back at her despite the pain and the whole situation. He figured that showing her how much pain he was in and how depressed he still felt would disillusion the girl. After all, she was a wreck.

"You'd better be thankful. I gave up my favorite sweater to wrap your damn cuts!" Drake sighed in relief, his slick hair all messy and dirty. His serene look became a grim one in a matter of seconds when he looked down the floor below them. A shadowy figure moved silently into the stable. Drake sat up, alerting Sam who only stared in horror at the stairs. They could hear the footsteps getting nearer, climbing the steps ever so slowly. And they were both unarmed, not even a canister of pepper spray to defend. Unless they thought quickly, they were dead.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Fresh air felt like a blessing to Shawn as he took deep breaths of the crisp, autumn breeze. It was a shame that he couldn't enjoy it.

The scene was beautiful, the leaves just about to change colors, allowing the green ones time to bask in the mild sunlight. Even though the coldness stung worse than ever, the view was all worth it.

There was too much silence for a forested area. Shawn decided that the animals either flew the coop, realizing the danger of the unnatural creatures, or transformed with the rest of them. That last thought scared the shit out of him. A couple of stupid humanoids with wings, fine. But bears, birds, and creatures of the wilderness...that he had a problem with.

When Shawn was at that town with the spill, the one with the viral outbreak, he remembered what happened to the life-forms there. The sinister disease promised death and decay to all it touched, specifically bio-organic things. It wasn't pleasant at all, however, there was one aspect that made the incident more evil. He only could recollect the images particularly through dreams. A lot of what happened he couldn't remember for some odd reason. Because of this, he always kept these images to himself.

It wasn't until he decided to tell his best friend, Eduardo, who'd been there also, those horrific "dreams" that he began to feel uneasy. Shawn knew they weren't dreams, that he'd actually fought people who became zombies, but he had to make sure he had his sanity. The reply was a skeptical look and a question of mental health. But a few weeks after, he received a frantic phone call from his friend, telling him all about the dream, the same one Shawn had. They had planned to meet the following morning, but Eduardo had disappeared; his mother, wife, and fellow agents were unable to locate him...

For some odd reason, Shawn never dared question the call from his terrified teammate or the dream for that matter. Instead, he'd been depressed. Maybe it was...fear.

Shawn shook off the thoughts, knowing that it was irrelevant for the moment. He needed to get somewhere safe, especially since that bastard, Randolph, knew where he was headed. The man was crafty and knew his surroundings well. If Shawn wanted to stay alive, he had to think of something speedily.

VROOM!

He knew even before turning around that Eva had arrived. She must've been watching him...

"Eva!" She turned the bike sideways and came to a full stop right beside him.

"You missed me?" she asked, the tone in her voice sounding playful.

"...no questions, remember?" he replied back sarcastically.

"Oh, you're no fun." She still wore a wide grin. Shawn had a serious look on his face, which was still sweaty from his fights in the humid cave.

"Did you happen to see a strange man wearing a scarf and a robe?"

"I thought you just said 'no questions.'"

"I'm not fooling around! This man wants to kill me, but not just because I was in his way. Was he out here somewhere? I'm not joking..."

"I didn't see any man. Besides, you're the one who came to this hellhole in the first place. Did you expect special treatment! Ugh, what a typical American!"

With that, Shawn started to walk away from her and toward the wilderness.

"Where do you think you're going?" she questioned him quizzically. "Are you off to get yourself lost, ambushed, and eaten? That's about all that awaits you if you go, meanwhile I'm here offering you assistance! Why don't you take it?"

"Look, this isn't some reality show or game; this is serious! People are dying, and you're just acting like it doesn't matter. Tell me," Shawn stated as he turned back to her, "tell me who you are and what you want from me. Maybe then I'll cooperate…"

Eva's expression turned grim for the first time since they met. Then, she examined him with curiosity.

"You want to know…everything?" Shawn nodded distastefully.

"I guess it'd be alright if I told you, just you..."

"Okay…well?"

The two sat beside a huge rock outside the cave.

"I was a member of a covert assassin guild at a village somewhere near here. Dahlia was my name then. I had been raised there as a child, not having prior memories since age six. It wasn't until I was seventeen that I decided to break away from the guild and start a new life, a real one. But my past eventually caught up with me. They hunted me down, wanted to kill me. For what, I don't know, nor do I care."

Shawn looked at her skeptically, almost grinning in mockery.

"What, you don't believe me!" she scolded in response.

"No, I do believe you, it's just...you actually seem so serious."

"Well, it's all true," she reassured, "I was stalked by them for what felt like forever. But, it wasn't until recent that I overheard one of my former mentors speaking of some 'plan' involving a man by the name of Albert Wesker..."

The name rang a bell in Shawn's head. After filtering out all the crazy things that have happened so far, he remembered that it was Wesker his platoon was ordered to pursue originally. He first allowed Eva to finish, contemplating simultaneously.

"I have no doubt that the man they spoke to had something to do with all of this," she concluded.

"...What makes you say that?" Shawn seemed suddenly interested in her deduction.

"Just a little while ago, I spotted one of my former subordinates. He was...organizing the crazed denizens of the village. I don't understand how or why he was doing it, but if there were two things I was sure of, they were his facial features and the initiation tattoo of the organization."

"Initiation tattoo, huh?" Shawn wondered. Eva rolled the sleeve on her left arm up to unveil what looked like a flaming serpent of some sort, a dagger impaled into it.

"Not so pleasing to the eyes, I know. It was also a very painful procedure. Anyway, I guess there's a part of me that just doesn't want to let go. There are people in that clan that I'd hate to see as vampire zombies, so I came to spy, test the skills they'd taught me. But that's all there is to hear about me...let's see..."

She fiddled with some nearby pebbles as she thought some more, not moving her eyes anywhere Shawn could see them.

"Oh, I also uncovered something recently that may be of interest. I've confirmed the bodies of several people who were bitten on the neck. But they were not zombies. Instead, they seemed to have died from a parasite, which had evidently burst through from the chest."

"Great..."

"Well, now that we're thoroughly depressed, I guess I've told you basically all I've uncovered upon my arrival. I simply found you by coincidence because of the vampire-zombie things." She grinned slightly. "Now, it's your turn. Tell me what link you have with all that has happened," she rushed.

"I really wish I could tell you, but all I know right now is that something terrible happened to me at a remote town. Although it's currently unknown who was responsible for the viral leakage that afflicted many, the government had a big part, that much I know. It's all like...a blurry dream..."

"Sure," she joked, "...it's too bad." There was a brief silence and Eva got up and stretched. Shawn got up too, surveying the area for anything unusual.

"Can I ask you one more question, Eva?"

"Might as well," she replied crabbily.

"Who exactly are you running from, that you can't even be seen? Is it your clan, still?" Eva remained quiet for some time, her eyes wandering toward the path behind him. Then, several people's shouts disrupted their conversation; it came from that direction, mainly cries of agony. Without delaying, they hurried up the path and paused at the sound of something foreboding.

"Watch out!" shouted Shawn, and then he dove, pushing Eva out of the way of a blazing car's path. What followed was a screech from the tires, a loud crash, and finally, an explosion...

"Damn it, you okay?" he asked her.

"I'm fine, what about you?" she replied in kind.

They saw the remains of the burning, overturned car, nothing but smoldering glass and metal. Someone lay on the ground nearby and still alive. When Shawn kneeled beside him, he became sure that with his mortal wounds, he wouldn't last long. The man was murmuring something inaudible. Both Eva and Shawn looked helplessly at each other.

"There's nothing we can do..." she marked.

As the scorched man began to breathe heavily, he raised one bloody hand and tossed something shakily toward them. Something metallic and silver fell on the patch of dirt, and when Shawn grabbed it, he noticed it resembled some sort of statuette. Then, the dying man took his last breath.

Sparing him no time to think, several more shouts came, only they were war cries. Four men dressed like the villagers came stalking up the path, their utterly inhumane features revealing them immediately. They held rusty knives and axes, as usual, and in the back, some strangely dressed man hidden in a bunch of drapes stepped forth. His build didn't match Randolph's at all. He also lugged a rather large gun of some sort...

"Shit, it's a bazooka," Shawn whispered. He was surprised to hear the man speak perfect English.

"So, fate has brought us together once more...Eva."

Shawn looked puzzlingly at Eva, who appeared lost in thought at the moment. The bloodthirsty zombies came closer, exposing their gore-infested teeth. One of them moaned and muttered darkly in Romanian, "the American agent..." The man with the bazooka smiled intently.

"And you even brought over the American! Excellent, this proves just how bound you are to us."

"...I don't know what they did to you, Hisaru, but I swear, I shall never join your ranks," Eva spoke, shaking her head. By then, Shawn was firing at the armed zombies. They showed very little effort to dodge his shots, and as a result they were riddled with holes.

"That's right, their chest, for some reason the heart..."

With that quick reminder, the first two zombies fell easily from two shots, clutching their chests in pain. The other two ran recklessly at him, but suffered the same fate. All that was left was that Hisaru character. He had been creeping nearer toward Eva, his attention so squared he didn't seem to care about the fact that he had the advantage with his gun.

"Get away from her!" Shawn yelled, his attempt to distract him failing. Hisaru took out a dagger with a very strange design on its hilt of a serpent...

"Doesn't this bring back fond memories?" he said with a heinous tone. He slid one finger down the edge of the dagger, smiling devilishly.

"So, you've all become pagans of your own beliefs..." Eva smiled nervously at the masked man, staring at his only revealed feature, his eyes. However, her focus remained on the dagger, not even the bazooka.

"Hey!" Shawn fired two shots into the man's gut, but he didn't even flinch.

"Shawn, leave!" Eva warned, but he remained.

"Should've listened to the heretic, boy," Hisaru hissed. In all but a flash of the moment, the bazooka rose up, Eva's voice shouted something frantically, something he could not hear, and he could only jump away at the loud, fizzing noise of a grenade round. He fell through some nearby underbrush and suddenly began to roll down some hidden slope. His groans as he hit each branch and shrub did not allow him to hear what went on up top.

Soon enough, when he finally came to a stop, he heard the sound of rushing water. When Shawn came to his senses, he sat up, embracing the pain from all over his body. A little further down, and he would've been off a small cliff and into a river.

BOOM...BOOM, BOOM.

At the faint rumbling noise, Shawn glanced up the hill and saw an enormous object tearing through the trees and bushes as if they were made out of paper; Hisaru must've pushed over a boulder! He only had so much time to think before he'd be flattened, so he did the only thing that would save him at the time...he leapt into the river.

W E S K E R

Just when he thought everything was going according to plan, Wesker manages to get himself stuck in a tight spot. It seemed to him that these things always had to happen, just to spite him. After damning himself and damning nearly every American agent on his tail, he cooled down and grinned, his expression back to its slapdash old self. The answer was quite as simple as the plain, blank computer screen in front of him.

"Let us begin this game of cat and mouse, my fellow Americans. But…" He turned his chair around, observing the dull gray color of the entire room. He put both hands behind his head, leaning back without a worry on his unchanging face.

"…we're on my turf, now," he finished. There was no doubt that his plan would work. He had thwarted the underestimated S.T.A.R.S. unit before, and he outsmarted Umbrella and the so-called genius, Alexia. Although there were flaws and unexpected events in his ploys, one thing was constant; he always won. Even at this moment, the Las Plagas samples, one of many essential keys to his plans, were being spliced and multiplied.

"Captain!" came a shout as his office door flew open, "Captain!"

"I see 'knocking' isn't in your vocabulary…"

"This is serious." It was a low-ranking officer under his command.

"Quit your whining and get to the point."

"Sir, the Elitists we sent out were wiped out completely! It seems that the Zalamel clan has gotten to them…" Wesker's teeth began to grind, and while his traditional black shades were still on his face, the officer could tell that his eyes were screaming and ready to attack. To his surprise, Wesker merely let out a slight chuckle.

"What do you mean by that, officer? Those primitive Hicksville scum pale in comparison to my Elitists. Besides, we had made a deal. It cannot be them…"

The look on the young and shaken man did not once falter.

"Y-Yes, intelligence is positive it's them, s-sir. Hisaru and several others were spotted in the fray, also carrying prisoners..."

"Preposterous. I shall have to take a closer look at this matter later myself…"

"T-T-that's not all…" the man said, trying his hardest to maintain his composure.

"…What else, are they also going to magically fly here and pinch us with pitchforks?" Wesker questioned mirthfully.

"Sir…The Owner…isn't bringing any more Elitists, or bio weapons for that matter."

Wesker looked the other way. For once in a long time, he felt the knots retying inside his gut. Without his precious B.O.W. 's, his long-awaited plans will come to naught. What was HCF thinking? Did they suspect something, or see something? Had he messed up somewhere? NO. Everything was going accordingly. That he at least knew. He brushed aside his uncertainty and pondered briefly.

"…You may go," he told the officer without a single hint that would suggest agitation. Confused, the officer untied his sweat-drenched collar a bit, replied with a mere "yes, sir", and stalked out of the room in a quick, yet cautious manner. Wesker was alone, still thinking. He was looking at the rational possibilities. Not many of these officers given to him by HCF even had a clue as to what was really going on, only aware of what the company demanded. And his more trusted men were securely fastened on their leashes, for lack of better words. However, there was that odd incident he hadn't had time to solved yet. The Americans' arrival was quite unexpected, the tribal uprising likewise, so he could only assume some internal source _was_ at work…

"_One thing at a time, Albert," _

It was his intuitive voice speaking. And his intuition was always correct. First, he had to squash the Zalamel bastards, then, he would brew something "special" for Luther, The Owner. He figured his last priorities would be the Americans. He sighed inwardly; he so looked forward to outsmarting and eliminating those pathetic fools. And after all that work with the traps. His smile suddenly reappeared as he remembered the new Marauders he kept stored away. Perhaps it was overkill, but he decided that it would be appropriate for the situation. Who knew, maybe his prototypes would be competent enough to hunt down those agents, too. Once again, Wesker laid back in his chair, smirking, lost in twisted thoughts, the bare screen of his computer finally flickering on.

S A M A N T H A

Time seemed to slow for just a blur of the moment as the two stood at the small corner of the old barn, the human-shape figure's insidious footsteps becoming more and more steadier. Samantha looked as if she was on the verge of panic, but she wasn't going to die here, not by a single fanatical lunatic.

She dug through some pulpy hay at a corner of the weathered construct and sighed at the sight of what had been projecting from a slot in a panel of wood. What might've been a part of a rake or plow was her only salvation, nothing but a long stick to defend an injured man and a pathetic interpreter.

"_Maybe the guy will laugh so hard, he'll pop an organ or two..." _she thought, suddenly feeling queasy at her own mockery of their predicament.

The sound of light footsteps ceased for a moment, their pursuer hesitating. The long piece of wood shook slightly in Sam's hands, but if anything, she had only gotten closer to the stairway. Then, she paused, her heart skipping a beat when she heard a click, one that sounded all too familiar to her; the "man" was armed with a handgun.

"Damn, hadn't thought about that!" she mentally shouted, wondering just how skilled the barbarians were with guns.

"Who's there!" It was the man's voice, and in English. "I have a gun! I _will_ shoot!"

Great. It wasn't a man, but a kid. And by how poorly he assessed his situation, probably a teenager.

"Hold your fire, we're good!" Drake shouted. He leaned against the wooden wall to lift himself up, then joined Sam. The boy, who had then hurried up the stairs like a twelve-year-old child would, looked quite relieved despite the fact that their situation still really sucked. His bushy, brown hair nearly covered half his face, his tall, lanky features sheathed by baggy, black pants and a t-shirt with a skull design on it; a punk, most likely. Just the sight of other actual people must have raised his spirits, though. Sam presumed that he was alone...

"Shit! You're all really normal!" were his first words. The pair took a quick glance at each other as if to verify their thoughts. Basically, he was a lost sixteen, seventeen-year-old American tourist of some sort who got separated from his family, saw the overturned car, and heard Drake's shouting of pain. How he got hold of a gun, though, was questionable.

"Well, kid, what's your name?" Sam asked, her expression mild as if nothing had happened.

"It's Cliff, and I'm not a kid, I'm eighteen," he said bluntly. "Who're you people? Were you with those FBI agents a little while ago?"

"...You mean CIA?" Drake corrected with a smirk. Sam smiled also, feeling a spark of hope surge through her.

"You're telling us that you saw CIA agents around here! Where were they last?" the boy's expression was sour, a look of disappointment on his youthful features. He then turned toward the stairs again going down two steps.

"Look, I really got to go. I'm wasting time here..."

"Yeah, right, kid," Drake blurted, "you're coming with us."

With a scowl directed at both of them in general, he headed downstairs only to pause again.

"Pu-lease! You both gotta follow _me!_ I have the gun, and you..." he pointed at the old wooden stick Sam held, "...enough said, huh? Call it a hunch, but I think you guys need me more than I need you."

"Snotnosed brat," Drake muttered. Sam tossed the pole aside, headed downstairs as he shot her a look of disbelief.

"Might as well," she replied, "it's better than staying up here like sitting ducks." Drake frowned.

"Can I at least use the gun? I wouldn't exactly trust the kid with it.."

Drake was halfway down the stairs when the steps beneath him suddenly began to shudder, then crumble. The whole barn started to quake shortly after, the feeling like that of an earthquake, only this one intensified after each passing second.

"Drake!" Sam called out, who was already on the bottom floor. Cliff shouted something inaudible and raced out of the doorway, pointing at something they couldn't see.

Drake tossed himself forward, landing on his unscathed left arm. Samantha helped him up and outside when something seemed to explode just right in front of them, dirt and grass flying at them and _over_ the barn.

"What in the world..."

When the debris cleared, they gaped at what lay in front of them. An enormous striated worm, more accurately resembling a maggot, rose from the depths, its disfigured mouth made to resemble something like a sci-fi creature's. Marked with four sharp and lengthy teeth, each on a corner of its foul cavity, it shrieked unlike anything they'd heard before, like a shrill of death. And with that, the barn wobbled, its foundation obviously unable to withstand its monstrous tunneling.

"We have to find some way out!" Sam yelled over the shrieking. Planks of wood began to fall all about them as they flailed around for another opening. But then, the horrific worm began to dig again in the direction that the kid, Cliff, had ran to.

The pair scurried out, avoiding the holes that were caving in with dirt, dug by the loathsome creature. Then, shots were being fired. One, two, three. They thought he was a goner, until they saw the worm leap into the air, then flinch in pain as it changed direction. The boy wasn't such a bad shot...

"Cliff!" Drake shouted, oblivious to his current wounds. "Get the hell over here!"

The worm tunneled again, making a u-turn toward Cliff. In what seemed like a flash of a moment, the boy sprung sideways away from the aggressing beast, fired four more quick shots, two at its wide mouth, one in its mutant eye, and the other going wide, and landed hard on his right shoulder, the worm missing him by inches. It squealed in anguish at the blasts to its face and began digging into the dark, cold earth again. The rumbling started to become subtle, the monster giving up on its rather short chase.

The boy stood up, breathing heavily and in shock. The hole it had dug right next to him became a huge patch of dirt, the worm's disgusting putrid smell, like that of bile and sour milk, permeating through the air. By then, the others had reached him.

"Still think I'm just a snotnosed brat?" he mocked, a wide grin on his sweating face.

"You are insane!" Drake yelled, not with anger, but more in amazement.

"EVERYTHING here is insane!" retorted Sam. "Why don't we retrace your damn steps and try to find help before we all become fuckin' monster food!" Cliff shook his head as he regained his stamina.

"Well, we can't do that..."

"Don't tell me those nut-jobs are there, too." she said with extreme over-excitement.

"Yep, they destroyed what was left of the resort town. The worms came after."

"'Worms?'" Sam shuddered at the thought.

"This one wasn't even grown up! I can't imagine what you two would've done if you saw what I saw."

Drake shook his head, not knowing whether to feel relieved that they had lived, or to feel anxious at what he just told them. He looked up at Cliff, his face still appearing boyish in spite of his great meritoriousness.

"Alright, which way did you come from?" Drake asked, his tone much calmer than before.

"I guess that way," he answered, pointing behind him. That was east, Drake mentally noted. And he and Sam had come from south of this spot. Being that they were still at the heart of Romania, if they headed west, they'd most likely hit the Olt River. They'd end up in Transylvania, that is if they could manage to get across. They needed to find refuge; while the nearest major city was Brasov, any city near this area was in all likelihood already overrun.

"So, we'll follow this road northwest," Drake started, "until we get to the river further down. Then, we'll have to find the nearest bridge. I'm sure that those freaky monsters and zombie people wouldn't be all over Romania."

"And if they are?" the boy questioned, more anxious than he was critical.

"Well, that's a chance we'll have to take. Now, lets see if we can overturn the car. Maybe it'll still work..."

"Uh, bad idea," Cliff advised, looking down. Drake awaited a very viable explanation. "You see, I'm not a scientist or whatever, but I know those worms are attracted to very strong vibrations on the ground, such as cars. That's why you both were attacked while driving."

He frowned and brooded about the worm. It had been a miracle that he and Sam survived the crash, let alone the collapse of the barn. Suddenly, he didn't quite feel like arguing with the brat. As good as he was with the gun, he doubted that he had enough ammo even for himself. They just wouldn't stand a chance. Drake turned to Sam who was unusually quiet.

"You okay?" he asked, trying to sound a little upbeat even though he felt like just laying in a hole and dying.

"...yeah," she replied simply. She sounded lost in thought, was probably just as much in shock as anyone would be. Jesus, a mob of blood-frenzied vampire people, twelve-foot worms still not at full size, and who knew what else! He snapped out of his recollection and took a deep breath.

"So, where did you find that gun?"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The city was partially dark, the looming buildings around him creating a strong feeling of suspense. Unknown soldiers marched alongside him, though, making him feel reassured. He held an AK-47 firmly, sweat moistening his grip even though his fingerless gloves were on. The sky above seemed ominous, darker than what a normal sky would look. And for some reason, he just_ knew_ that it was late afternoon...

-Straight ahead, the sound of moans, like dying men. Startled, he raised his assault rifle, nescience of that fact. Although his mind told him he needed to go, his instincts, this other entity inside him warned him, implored him to go back, to leave this place at once.

"What the hell!" His teammates began to open fire down an alley way, the many moans driving needles into his ears. People of all kinds lurched, even crawled toward him. The smell of rot filled the somewhat electric-pervaded air. His heart pounded away as he saw fellow soldiers, faces all the same, get bitten, bleeding, screaming, dying-

And he opened fire, the bullets doing barely anything to the walking corpses, his scream shut out by the many bullets flying out of many guns. The flashes began to fade, the voices, the screams, too. All faded and he woke up...

He could only hear rushing water nearby, the currents calming his limp body. And even as Shawn lay there all motionless except for his half-submerged legs swaying in water, he couldn't find it in him to open his eyes.

His body twitched, remembering all that happened before, and he was fully awake. His whole body ached, as if he were standing still at a mosh pit. It was dark, the nighttime sky and its stars the first things he could see. He sat up, his ears ringing and clogged with the river's water. Was he truly alive? After adjusting to his mild disorientation, he briefly checked himself for any major injuries, but found nothing of immediate danger.

Shawn fell straight into the river and lived, convincing him that luck seemed to have liked him for the past hours. He shook off his soaked clothes a bit and stretched carefully, assessing the locations of his soreness. He quickly took in his environment; a shore of rocks where he got washed up at, the nighted forest up ahead, rocky ravines to the left and right of the river. He was actually incredibly lucky. It could've been much uglier, could've broken some bones on the rocks or gotten squashed by that boulder...

The thought of Eva and Hisaru suddenly flashed in his mind for a second. It wasn't until then that he thought about that recurring dream. That city...he shook it off, knowing that this wasn't the time or place. Bottom line, he survived.

Shawn wiped his drenched hair from his forehead, searching his side pack for his belongings. He still had the weird stone block that he uncovered at the cave...and the seemingly useless stone statuette that dying man meekly tossed to him. He decided to investigate the two objects later. He was relieved when he felt the cold metal in the pack, taking out the Uzi Eva gave him. However, he must have dropped his handgun during the fall.

After damning Hisaru, he also realized the Uzi was low on ammo, and all he had was a clip of parabellum bullets for the handgun; the rest was washed away. Barely armed, he considered his luck and looked straight ahead at the only path he could take.

"No goddamn way I'm stepping foot into that forest without a military to back me up..." he thought.

-A rustling came from somewhere in front of him, somewhere in the horrifically pitch black woods. By then, he was aiming his only weapon around shakily. It could just as easily be a harmless woodland animal...or wolves, a whole pack of them. Or even better yet, a pack of mutant vampire wolves...

As he continued to train his gun at the empty darkness, his heart racing, he heard something to his left, like the sound of crunching gravel. He turned to his left almost instantly, and against the glare of the moonlight emitted directly above the ravine stood a human figure, only it was taller, bulkier, somewhat unnatural. When the creature jumped down, now only a few meters away, he realized that it wasn't at all human, it's skinned features gleaming brightly from the light behind it. It grinned a permanent one for lack of skin on its pallid face, and its fierce, red eyes pierced his very own.

_Shit..._

But it wasn't until he looked past its naked body and at its twelve-inch needle-like nails on each hand that he pulled the trigger, letting out a spray of bullets that seemed to barely even tickle the thing. The tiny holes in its body from the shots did not even bleed, signaling Shawn that fighting was out of the question. And even as he turned around to run through the woods, unaware that he had dreaded entering them before, he could hear the cold-blooded cry of the beast, unlike anything he had ever heard before. It was the sound of an angered brute.

Shawn could scarcely see where he was going, the many branches smacking and lashing at his face and clothes. Right behind him, he also heard the loud, padded sounds of large, bare feet smacking on rocks and dead leaves, the grotesque gaining ground much quicker than he was. If this continued, its spiny needles for nails would be upon him in no time...

-over there, behind the thick fog. A humongous chapel-like building stood, as if awaiting his arrival, to hopefully shelter him from the creature if not for a little while. The devilish monster seemed to give up pursuit, but all the same, Shawn dashed for the front door, wherever it may be.

"The gates..."

Shawn saw them even through the thick patch of fog. They were already open, the front door only meters away-

-when from above on some branch, the monster flew down, as if native to these parts. It stood up from its crouching stance and its grin flashed again, as if to mock his efforts to outrun the giant. It traced one of its fingers from its left hand over a glistening nail of its right, as if it hinted to Shawn just how he planned to kill him. The monster then broke into a run, only seconds away from reaching him. Shawn had no time to run or to think, only to dive left away from the attack, the sharp pains from his previous injuries giving in again. Fresh blood leaked onto his hands as he got up; the monster's nails had struck...

The beast turned around ever so slowly, facing Shawn. It had become excited by the blood on its unnatural nails, even more so when it smelled it on Shawn. And he saw it, a door on the side of the citadel-of-a-house, hopefully open.

"And if its locked, its back to the forest," he thought grimly, his exhausted body pining for rest. He'd never last out there in the forest with the mutant beast.

Shawn zoomed toward the door, the monstrous golem's face following his movement, trying to figure out where he was headed before giving chase. By then, Shawn was opening the squealing door, the audible "click" a blessing to his ears. He barred the door with a nearby table, hoping that the creature wouldn't somehow burst through the stone doors like it were made of paper; it sure as hell seemed capable of that. And for some inexplicable reason, it did not.

After what seemed like hours of waiting for a response, Shawn lowered his weapon, trying to relieve the tension from before. In the meantime, he took in his surroundings as best he could without diverting his attention from the door. The entire room was made of stones, all gray and dull colored, adding to the austere, gothic look it presented. He was obviously in some sort of kitchen, a large wooden table set with clean and polished plates, silverware, and napkins, as if some meal was going to be served in a matter of minutes. The oven and counter-tops greatly resembled the ones from the village inn. Luckily, and strangely enough, the room lacked windows, preventing an entrance for the creature or creatures outside, a slight relief. The last things of interest were the two doorways, one on the left and another on the right.

"Guess I'll just take a look around..." he muttered to himself, wondering just how he ended up in such a macabre environment, so different from when he first arrived.

S A M A N T H A

She couldn't believe her eyes. When Cliff lowered the military issue handgun, the three survivors stood in awe, Sam the more terrified of the three. On the floor, right in front of her, lay Timothy, the man from the embassy building; he made it this far, even when he was thought to have been dead in one of the skirmishes in the city. However, it wasn't really just the fact that he lived this long that spooked her.

Beside his body, a thin, pale creature convulsed, a creature that had burst out of Sam's coworker's chest. Unlike Timothy Jones' body, which was lying in a pool of thick, dark blood, the monster barely had much blood to spill, despite having taken many blows from Cliff's pistol.

"What the hell just happened?" Drake was the first to speak out loud.

"..."

Cliff had been silent. The worm attacks had been terrifying enough, but embryos being planted inside people...that just brought forth a whole new kind of terror.

Sam hurried over to the man's body, rifling through his pockets. Drake stared at her with curiosity; maybe the guy would have some ammunition or something they could use. He shot a glance at the boy, who looked uneasy at him. Drake helped her search the body and uncovered a box of loose bullets for a handgun, just as Sam found the gun in the pocket of the man's pants, her expression pleasant despite the atmosphere of death surrounding the scene. Her actions caused mixed emotions of terror and sympathy, and of excitement and renewed hope. Well, he wouldn't need his possessions now, this time she was sure.

Drake snatched it, a slight smile forming on his dirty face. The gun was already loaded to the max. Maybe the path the man took had no dangers. If that was true, they may actually get lucky enough to escape without having to use weapons.

"Catch," Drake said speedily, tossing the box of bullets to Cliff. "Load your gun. We're getting the hell out of here, even if we have to travel cross-country."

Night had already set upon the land, the last of the sun's light dissipating. Lucky for them, they were traveling on a set path, an obscure road for anybody driving by. Just as long as they remained together, they'd be safe; they could see just about anybody or anything for a good dozen yards. Still, the darkness of night didn't make things easier.

Except for spotting several overturned cars broken beyond repair and many burnt and broken corpses, their travel was pretty uneventful. It wasn't until about a half hour later that a well-lit building off the distance caught their attention. The chance of it being a sign of escape was minimal, but it was a sign of life. They rushed toward it, realizing that it was strangely built for any kind of home. It was white all over, was actually quite large, and was secluded, only several trees hugging it. Strong winds began to make its way over, the trees' branches wavering back and forth, making the house not so safe-looking.

"Here's the front door," Drake called, signaling the rest over. "Should we knock?" As he said this, his hand had pushed the door slightly ajar; it was open.

They entered inside, what looked like a receptionist's office greeting them. No one was present.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Sam added as Cliff shut the door.

"What if everyone in here was planted with an embryo?"

Cliff's question went unanswered, the expression of the other two appearing quite nettled. Besides containing several chairs, bushy plants, and magazines, all the things a waiting room would hold, there was nothing else of interest. Drake pulled the silver knob on a door labeled "Do Not Enter", but the knob wouldn't give, some kind of lock with buttons on it probably the cause.

"Over here!" Sam called out.

She opened the other door, the one to the receptionist's desk area. Feeling a knot of anticipation inside her, she walked in, the others following dumbly, feeling almost drawn into the room. Another door stood silently and mysteriously across the tiny office, but she was more curious to find out what this building was doing all the way out here. She immediately made her way to the desk, papers scattered haphazardly throughout.

While the other two scrounged for anything useful, she skimmed through the papers. Many of them were schedules for certain people. What was cryptic about it was that none of the names were Romanian, but American. She could easily spot a Romanian name, or word for that matter.

"Lets see, 'Ronald Palmer, William Summers, Holly Harrison...'" The names just kept going, a set of dates and notes set next to each; nothing worth looking at. After rummaging through some more seemingly useless items, she came across an important-looking document titled "Urgent: Regarding X", a ripped seal on its edges. She took it, her eyes narrowing to read the small-print letters on it.

"Find anything good?" Drake asked them indirectly.

"Just some weird claw marks on some of the tables here," answered Cliff. Drake examined the marks for only a couple of seconds and decided that he did not want to even think about what had caused them. He veered toward Sam, who'd been reading the piece of paper for a couple of minutes already.

"Hey, what've you got there?"

"...You gotta read this," she said, her eyes pressing importance on the article.

_-Regarding the progress on X, the resurrection of variable A has been a complete success. It immediately reacted to the administered variable B positively, as if it were the perfect piece to the puzzle. The first two days, variable A began showing signs of life, but lacked any kind of intelligent behavior. At first, we assumed that a higher dosage was needed, but after the third day, variable A changed dramatically. By then, it was voracious, acting aggressive around its environment, searching for a host. Stunned by the sudden growth and reconstruction of its cellular composition, we began testing posthaste. We call the combined A and B variable X. Here's what we've found so far._

_Experiment A Results: Oryctolagus cuniculus (Rabbit)_

_Four rabbits were placed together, two injected with variable X. Another group with four rabbits stood as the constant, that is for the basis of variable B. After several hours, the variable X rabbits exhibited many physical changes regarding appetite behavior and overall bodily growth. A few hours more, and the variable X rabbits had been feasting on the other two non-carriers. The most peculiar feature was their thirst for its victims' blood._

_In the end, the variable X rabbits grew into carnivorous creatures, while variable B rabbits began to die and decompose. Test subjects were kept for additional research._

_Experiment B Results: Corvus corone (Crow)_

_Crows injected with variable X died immediately. However, variable B crows engaged in cannibalistic activity not shortly after. No other immediate effects detected._

_Test subjects disposed._

_Experiment C Results: Homo Sapiens (Human)_

_Three subjects were tested. Test subject #1 took several hours to react to variable X. Even as #1's body fought hard against variable X, the transformation was successful. The result was a combination of both variables X and B, with slow tissue-deteriorating effects, increased circulatory efficiency, and outstanding neural augmentation. However, the most distinguishing change was the enhancement and addition of body organs in the body. Blood vessels and related organs, such as the kidneys and liver began to grow new appendages, the blood itself began to thicken. At the end, #1's appetite increased, most likely for blood._

_Test subject #2 was clean of any variables and put together alive with #1. After a brutal, yet swift battle, #1 had the hold on #2. It bit down into #2's neck and drained it of blood, then began engaging in cannibalistic activity. Test subject #2 was half alive a few hours later only to die from the infection administered by #1. An embryo life-form, one much resembling #1, grew from #2's chest, obviously had incubated there. It burst out and grew tenaciously, nearly as tall as #1. The rate at which it grew was incredible. After the food source from #2 ran out, the new embryo and #1 fought out of hunger. The embryo won, even after taking heavy blows to the head, barely bleeding or suffering from brain injury. _

_Test subject #3 was tested in a dead state and resulted negative, variable X not taking immediate effect. Stored for additional testing._

_While it is safe to say that spawn of those infected by X are much more potent than that of the infected host, we believe that X is indeed a parasite that works in colonies. To say that the infected are mere zombies, like the products of variable B would be hardly fair. More research on the ecology of X will be considered._

_The embryo is currently being tested on as we speak. It is neither human nor an X or B host, but a hybrid. This new species has built neural passages extending to the heart, much of its organs surrounding its heart's many new components. We are eager to continue on project X; new subjects will be needed for further experimentations. Deliver to Dragon's Den.-_

Drake was both stunned and confused. While he understood the basics of the simple lab report, he felt overwhelmed by all the emphasis on those variables. To fully understand what the hell they were talking about, they would have to acquire additional information. However, with all the eerie talk of those lab creatures, he couldn't help but wonder if they were held in this building as they spoke. Sam's look was still the same; Cliff's was of fear and interest, like Drake's.

"What in God's name were they doing here?" Drake said softly and monotonously, as if lost in thought at the same time. Sam shook her head.

"I wanna go," she said, the others able to hear the strain, the malaisein her tone of voice. She was sick with both dread and adrenaline-

-and there was a sound on the other side of the unknown door, like another door opening, an automatic one. In the room they hadn't yet ventured since entering the cramped office were footsteps, yet they were steady, sloshing steps, like a drunk person's. The "person" was stumbling about, heading in their direction.

"Shit," Drake muttered as he heard the locked door at the waiting room opened from the other side, as well. They were surrounded.

Everything seemed to be going according to plan. The pathetic humans were wandering about, scuttling like bugs, and that Albert Wesker had fallen for their bait. Although he seemed highly capable of ruining all of their carefully laid out plans, they had made sure that he'd be kept busy for quite some time. Enough at least to initiate the next phase of their plan. It had been so hard to hide out for all this time, scavenging in the darkness of night, hiding trails and so on.

He thought to himself even as he walked through the unnatural forest. He'd be Randolph no more. Everything was beginning, like that of the first domino being pushed, the momentum putting all into progress. The Zalamel clan were readily accepting themselves as his pawns, had been for quite some time. All they needed was to wait a bit as Wesker and HCF put the plans into motion with their careful experimenting.

"And now that Wesker has done his fill, he poses a threat to all. He will be revived very soon, He who started it all..."

Keeping the brilliant schemer busy was easy; he was the type that wanted everything under his control...a control freak. He's seen many of those types in his many, many years of living. So many decades, and people were still so predictable...

He frowned, thinking of humankind's many follies and defects. But he soon after smiled at the reveries of his plans succeeding, his master being alive again, to reign over the foolish mortals, a world where war will be no more, where race does not matter at all.

"And meanwhile, the madman will quarrel with HCF, the agents will perish, and He will be king again!"

He chuckled as he thought about how badly HCF reacted when he told them that little lie. And the U.S. government completely bought the info he gave regarding Wesker's whereabouts. Why they didn't just take his advice and head straight for where he was hiding was a mystery; they had trusted him enough to search for that narcissist here, but wouldn't search at the spot he clearly told them to.

"Oh, well. Foolish. As long as they fulfill their purposes, they can die for all I care. Once I get to the castle, the fun shall begin..."

He glanced at his watch. Only an hour more to go. How excited he was. Oh, yes! An onslaught for his king!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

After finally removing his gaze from the door leading outside, Shawn decided he had to get moving, and fast. The eerie silence added to that decision, making him feel queasy and dizzy with adrenaline. He had checked the kitchen; nothing of importance there unless he wanted a butter knife or butcher's knife to fend with. The two doors, one on the left and one on the right, beckoned his presence. But just to play it safe, he decided to crack open each door and pick the less threatening-looking of the two. A stupid move, but it made him feel more reassured.

_Just stop being a child and go. You're a trained professional for God's sake._

But with the little ammo he had, going in head first seemed absurd (if only the machine gun wasn't an Uzi Carbine using the .380 ACP rounds). Besides, he didn't particularly like the idea of taking on any blood-sucking fiends barehanded.

The door on the left opened to a hall stretching across to another door, the hall itself nearly twice the length of the kitchen's. It was uncomfortably narrow with well-lit torches aligned along its walls. Gothic-style windows lined the wall to the left, clearly depicting the dark, forested outdoors.

_Okay, next door . . ._

Shawn peered through the other door and saw a rather large table, bigger than the one in the kitchen. The room was a bit more soothing. A fireplace of some sort hid behind a cart filled with various types of liquor, the flames actually still flickering vitally. A giant chandelier holding lit, beautifully crafted candles hung over the center of the pleasant room. From the ornate decorations to the tall and packed bookshelves, the room was quite a wonder.

Proceeding through the room, he noticed only one door to the far left. Just before reaching it, he heard a dull _thump,_ like something huge in a nearby room fell. His heart sank at the thought of that monster in the woods, but he managed the courage to grab the knob and turn. In his other hand, he held his Uzi firmly, ready to fire at anything that would as much as jump or bite or whatever. To his surprise, the next room was quite empty. Lots of boxes were strewn about in stacks, biohazard symbols etched on the sides. Shawn swallowed hard, thinking again about the parasites Eva described.

_Chest-poppers . . ._

He shuddered, then closed the door after realizing that the storage room led nowhere else. He should've burned the room down to ashes, but God only knew what kinds of materials were kept hidden in there. Shawn sighed, the idea of heading down that other hall gnawing at his weakened stomach. On his way back to the kitchen, something caught his eye. Above the fireplace, there was an emblem of a shield. It was half red and half white, a monstrous winged creature at the center of the decor. Slightly above the monster was an indentation. The shape resembled-

_-it's the shape of the statuette!_

Shawn popped out the statuette, the figure still intact, although smeared a crimson red. He studied the stone model of a man holding a sword downward; an exact size. The stone fit perfectly into the indentation, the picture on the shield complete and depicting a man striking a beast with his sword. The wall beside the fireplace lifted upward, startling Shawn off his feet.

_A secret passage in an old, gothic mansion in the middle of nowhere. Didn't see that coming. How anticlimactic_ . . .

He neared the open doorway, taking a quick glance inside, and then, saw something oh so beautiful on top of a desk; an auto shotgun, a dream come true. He mentally thanked the poor guy who perished under the burning vehicle for his help, wondering how he managed the strength and mentality to give him the stone. Maybe he meant to give it to somebody else?

Regardless, he hefted it, the reassuring weight of heavy firepower. The gun wasn't loaded, but a shit load of bullets lay in boxes nearby. There was also a note. The Romanian letters that were written on it gave him a sort of angered frustration, realizing that he was lousy at the language and he'd lost the "How to" book sometime during the chaos.

The thought of struggling to read it and waste time pushed forth a weak feeling inside. He felt getting the hell out was of more importance. Shawn hesitantly pocketed the paper after a quick fold, suddenly noticing the sympathy he felt for that guy who'd died. He'd probably left a message to whomever he meant to save. As he loaded the shotgun, he then mentally promised to make the ringleader of those monstrous clowns pay dearly for what they've done.

-THUMP.

Again, the noise, louder and more profound, causing him to turn around instantaneously. Although it sounded closer, there seemed to be no other _thumps _afterwards. Clenching the reloaded auto shotgun tightly, his attention swiftly shifted to what lay past the next hall. But still, he found it hard to ignore it. Could that noise be some sort of trap? Or could it be the sound of another monster or vampire? Gazing thoughtfully at the emblem on the fireplace, it wouldn't surprise him if the giant house was built just for those kinds of things. He nervously stepped closer to the door leading to the kitchen, when from behind him, there was a deafening crash of stone and splintering wood. Even as he turned around, he could hear the heavy breathing of the behemoth-of-a-creature that it was. His heart sinking into his gut, pounding, he briefly paused, trying to choose a way out. However, staring fearfully at the visage was unavoidable- the creature from the woods had come to finish him.

W E S K E R

It had been fairly easy to take things under control anew. HCF supported him again, supplying the various bio weapons on file. Besides the fact that he "manufactured" them himself, there was also the amount of money and effort he put into the production line and the reestablishing of a successful organization that testified to his rights. HCF had always hovered over Umbrella, even before its demise. It had been a stroke of luck that he joined them. Well, at least that's what they thought. It appeared that the mission previous had proven to be of great worth after all. . .

As for the Zalamel cults, the Elitists and Marauders together had made quick work of them(even though there was one Elitist that strayed away near a river); he'd seen most of their struggles via tracker cameras. No matter. He had planned to eliminate them when, or if, they would catch on. At any rate, he had acquired the info he needed from the cults in exchange for false vials of the T-virus, whatever they needed it for. Pathetic amateurs. They almost outranked the Los Illuminados at the intellectual level, _almost_.

_And once they disappear, there will be only the pesky U.S. search parties to watch out for. But even then, my goals would have seen fruition_.

Wesker then sat back and intently began to muse over the whereabouts of his agent, Ada Wong. She had taken off with the money he reluctantly gave her. He actually wanted for her to continue helping with his projects, but he sensed a kind of avoidance from her. Besides the fact that she attempted to give him the fake Plagas sample even though Krauser retrieved a true sample before his death, Wesker knew, even felt, before they even agreed to help each other out, that there was something else to her-

_. . .What on earth._

Something caught his attention, breaking him off from his brown study. The monitor screen in front of him flickered lightly as he struggled to take in what was depicted before his eyes. One of his tracker cams reached the secluded old Umbrella facility he had harbored his scientists in. Immediate testing of the X strain was expected to proceed in there, yet what he saw through the screen was a dead body. But not just a dead body, but a rising dead man with a blood-stained lab coat, getting up, dimly unaware of its wounds. Upon closer examination, his face appeared empty and expressionless.

_A zombie, no doubt._

Even as he thought about it, his stomach tensing with writhing frustration over a spill, he remembered the new agent that had arrived much earlier. He fumbled for the nearest communicator device, reminding himself that looking professional was of the lowest importance; the HCF dogs under his command were mindless pets, now.

_Come _on_, answer the damn-_

No reply sounded from the receiver. The agent must've been quite busy. Perhaps the Americans were making things hard? Either way, he wouldn't stand for it. As long as only the T-virus spilled, there was still a chance for the X strain to be salvaged. He would have the agent recover it at all costs, have it moved into one of his more securely hidden labs.

_Well, Wesker, your impulsiveness in this operation has proved ever so helpful yet again._

Then, it suddenly dawned on him, his mental voice scolding at him for not realizing it sooner. The _T-virus_ spilled. . . ! It was the Zalamel bastards. They actually used _him_ in their attempt to revive the X strain. Wesker just smiled, finding it all so ironic. No way in hell. They must've not only known about the rare strain, but also had the access all along. The virus repaired and revitalized the parasitic strain, allowing them to. . .

Wesker chuckled softly to himself, tapping in several keys in response. He reversed the cryogenic state of his newest imports, their perfectly motionless, suspended bodies still inside the giant tubes. The T-248's, what he nicknamed "manikins", were awakened. It was probably the best time to also release the "Hydras" he had so often anticipated to see in action.

"You will all suffer at their hands, infidels," he muttered, nearly overtaken by his excitement. It was time to initiate the extermination.

D R A K E

Reaching instinctively for the nine-millimeter, Drake turned first to the nearest of the noises, back at the waiting room. He quickly glanced at the other two; Sam's blue eyes just showed utter terror and helplessness, while Cliff seemed ready and determined. He was surprising him by the second, a young man who didn't fear the bastards, or at least did a hell of a job hiding it. He made a sudden nod toward the opposite end, a sign to cover where the other noise sounded from.

Drake grabbed hold of the knob, palms so sweaty that his hands slipped off of it slightly. Once the knob gave, he kicked open the wooden door and pointed the gun at-

_At a man. . . ?_

A live man stood before him dressed in a lab coat, the cataracts standing out easily beneath his worry-weathered eyes. He looked like in his later forties, early fifties, and on a verge of a breakdown.

"W-who. . . what are. . ."

The words just wouldn't come out of his mouth, the man in a shocked state. He was holding the right side of his chest, several stains of blood on certain areas of his white coat. Behind him, blasts were being shot, causing Drake to turn his head and see, but not faltering his aim at the scientist.

"Damn it, he won't fall!" Cliff shouted, a few more clattering rounds being shot. He backed up a bit and slammed the door shut in order to gain some time and space. Sam ran a hand swiftly through her long, brown hair, saying something rapid and inaudible.

The thing-that-wouldn't-die began to bang mindlessly against the steel door, its moaning ghostly. Cliff ran up to keep it closed.

"It's a zombie, a goddamn zombie," Cliff said, his voice strangled as he put his otiose weight on the door.

When Drake turned back to the injured man, he had already edged his way over despite having a gun pointed to his face. He was babbling something in a shaky, unrestrained tone, oblivious to everything else that was going on.

"L-listen! You have to get help! There are still others. . . downstairs! You must help them! The T-virus and the strain. . . you must do something-ugh! The pain, I can't take it anymore!"

"Calm down," Drake ordered forcefully, but at that point, the man was tightening his grip on his chest, more toward the center. He knew what was next. And in blur of a second, the pale, skinny creature came bursting out from his chest, blood, bone, and sinew erupting in a quick splash, drowning out the man's cries of anguish.

"Shit!"

A quick veer toward the back and he saw Cliff firing again, then he turned around to see the creature already lurching toward him, its enlarged incisors shining a bright white. Its fetal features beamed wetly against the lights above, the sticky slapping noise of its running alerting Drake.

He fired two rounds into its vein-riddled chest, a deep gurgling sound following. It rolled backward and jumped back up to its feet, ready to strike once more.

S A M A N T H A

Sam felt a surge of utter uselessness, standing around and staring in awe at the creatures that couldn't exist. The zombie seemed to ignore her even as it staggered only seven feet away. The fetid odor it emitted became stronger, causing Cliff to scoff as he fired one, two shots, Drake directly behind him firing at someone who must've transformed. As Sam backed up near the paper-riddled desk, she could see the other zombies, at least three others, reeling their way to them stupidly.

_God, can't be happening, can't be happening. . ._

There was a sudden wet, yet crunching sound as Cliff managed a head shot. The zombie in the white, bloodied coat crumpled forward, not a sound or movement coming from it.

"Head shots," Cliff muttered slowly, still appalled by the zombie's resistence. It didn't even feel anything! At least the vampires felt something.

It was quite apparent that the embryos' weakness was not in the head, strangely. Drake gave three head shots in a row, the white skinny creature's head barely recognizable. Drake let out a cry of pain as the creature managed to claw his legs. It wasn't until she heard him yelling frantically that she saw it. The monster was on top of him, biting into his neck, no, _sucking_ at his neck for blood!

"Cliff, help him! Hurry!" she yelled, wincing and simultaneously trying to find something, anything to attack the bony thing with. Cliff had finished off a second zombie assailant, a large, gaping hole in its putrid eye socket. It hadn't even fallen to the ground when he swung around, trying his best to aim at the thing.

"Try to be still," he advised, knowing all too well that he couldn't, Drake's arms flailing wildly.

As the next zombies approached, entering through the doorway much slower, as if Cliff's back to them was an easy invitation. Sam immediately struck the first one with a rather thick, hefty book she tossed. It hit it square in the face, knocking it and the ones behind it back into the next room. She pushed over the desk as hard as she could in order to bar the way through, even as the moans and clawing persisted.

_Shouldn't get past that._

The vampire thing was already dead, a back shot delivered by Cliff making the bite its final stand. Drake seemed okay, rubbing at his small bite wound, which already began to clot and heal. He just appeared a bit jolted.

"Jesus, are you alright, Drake?" Sam asked worriedly, putting her hand on his shoulder as if to ease the moment. He didn't answer, a shaky smile the only response.

". . .Thanks," he said at last, giving Cliff a brisk nod.

"Hey, we gotta stay alive," he replied. Cliff began to count bullets, his eyes trained more so on the trembling door.

"There," Drake managed to say rather loudly, pointing at the corpse of the vampire's host. "He has a gun. Take it." He had directed it to Sam, her fragile face expressing confusion and certainty all at once. And as he approached the nearly torn-down wooden door, she realized what he was suggesting. His look was serious, almost demanding. Even if he was being a bit brusque, she understood he was trying to protect her.

"Go, now. He said there were survivors downstairs. Try to find a safe spot, we'll catch up-"

The sound of the door coming off its hinges clattered, cutting off his last words, the hungry noises emanating louder causing a fear inside her that made her want to cry. Instead, she gripped the handgun tightly and nodded.

"Be careful, and watch out for Cliff."

With those final words, she descended into the basement of Hell.

S H A W N

Shawn gazed at the monstrous beast once more, the crash happening in less than a second. By the next second, he had been backing away. Even with the new loaded weapon, he still felt his instincts, telling him to run. He crashed through the door leading back into the kitchen, dashing for the cramped hall he passed up before, not realizing that the monster would quickly outrun him in less than a minute.

The creature of darkness swung just as he fell through the creaky door, giving chase almost immediately. Sprinting through the long narrow hall, the gray giant seemed to cease pursuit, but Shawn knew to keep running, that it had to be another of its tricks. And surely enough, midway through the narrow stip of hallway came the monster, irrupting downward and violently, landing in a crouch and stalking from that position almost instantaneous. If the door at the end was locked, he didn't want to know what the grinning grotesque would do.

At the moment of truth, nothing but the constant ringing in his ears sounded. His heart pounded as though it were trying to escape his chest, the time becoming minutes instead of seconds. He firmly grasped the thin, long metallic knob and pulled down. The door remained. The knob refused to turn, the ominous design of some dragon depicted on the door, also grinning wickedly as if to ridicule him at his final moment of life. He swung around, not wanting to, but feeling that maybe there could be some other way. This far down the hall had no windows; his life would be taken by a gamble. The creature's beady, black pupils appeared feral and savage, wanting his death so badly for unknown reasons. It would impale him in seconds, spill his blood for the sake of just watching him writhe in pain. But it didn't.

Shawn looked up after hearing the popping sound of a rifle from somewhere above. A second shot, and he noticed that it came from the floor above, where the brute had torn through. Quite bothered, the eight-foot monster turned his head to the sniper, who was sheathed in darkness, the shots apparently effective. It bled through the few holes on its back, Shawn noticed. With its attention diverted, he knew it had to be now, or he'd be dead.

He held the shotgun in place and fired, the shot going directly at its right cheek. It barely flinched, its grin now a skeletal portrayal, crimson blood pouring where its right ear should've been. Another blast at its massive chest and the beast was reeling backward, actually staggering for balance. It fell down on one knee and a red light passed across its still-expressionless face, following a _pop_ of a rifle and the spray of blood and wet chunks as the once adept monster was taken out.

"Must've been an angel. . ." he thought, his body beginning to feel sick with fear and relief at the same time. The monster was finally dead.

Shawn heard the footsteps above edge toward the hole. Then, he or she jumped down. He couldn't believe his eyes. It was Jim, one of his fellow agents! Amazed and thrilled to see another person like him, Shawn was practically speechless.

"Did'ya think I was dead, buddy?" he asked casually, a crooked smile forming on his worn features. He was sweaty as hell, probably also running from the horror.

Jim was one of the few people who actually believed him from the start regarding his dreams and whatnot. They really weren't the best of friends, but they held great respect for one another, and for some inexplicable reason, Jim seemed to trust Shawn's words. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he was also in that strange city.

"Jim! I couldn't be happier to see you."

Before he could say anything else, Jim turned slowly away, the expression on his scarred face grim.

"Were you bitten?" he asked him softly, his voice full of sorrow and other feelings Shawn couldn't describe.

"No," Shawn answered simply, with a surprised undertone.

"Good," he replied, putting his one hand over his weary face. He turned around at last, and grinned a false grin.

"Where're the rest of the team? Are they. . ."

Shawn trailed off, trying to find the answer on Jim's face. His smile seemed to fade very slowly.

"Some of them are waiting at an old castle nearby. As for the rest, you don't want to know."

Shawn's eyes widened. There was a bittersweet feeling amidst all that had happened. His comrades had survived for the most part. However, he wouldn't know how to cope with the deaths of those agents. Most of them were like brothers and sisters to him. They all trained together, had drinks together, and shared their past and future dreams.

"Why did you head over here?" Shawn asked with a puzzled expression.

"Well, I know it sounds crazy, but I met a peculiar girl. She was beautiful, and riding a Kawasaki Concours motorcycle, no less! She possibly saved my life, fighting to defend the front door to the castle from those vampire ass-wipes. After I was the last one standing in my platoon, she mowed down the last with a single dual machine gun. Then, she told me. . . to find you."

_Eva. . . _

"Me?" Shawn said, almost to himself.

"Yeah, she told me where you had probably ended up and said she'd be waiting somewhere in the castle, that she'd assist the others."

Shawn was stunned. Not only did Eva somehow survive from that strange man, Hisaru, but she found and fought alongside his fellow men. It was then that he concluded that there was more to her story than what she made it out to be. Even before, her explanation for being here was a bit sketchy. He would have said that maybe meeting him was a flaw in whatever plans she had, but he knew all too well that she had deliberately met up with him. Why? He couldn't say.

"What the hell are we waiting for?" Shawn asked with a grin full of renewed strength. "Lets get the hell out of this shit hole and find the others. We can make our final stand. Hell, we can find some way to contact our people and give them coordinates. . ."

Shawn trailed off, noticing that unmistakable look of something like distress. Before he could even think of words to say, Jim replied in an equally morbid tone.

"Shawn, there will be no rescue."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Samantha scrounged up every bit of items the mad scientist had on him before inching down slowly into the lower depths that were the basement floors. Almost immediately, a wave of repulsive stench effused throughout the bottom of the stairway, causing the adrenaline-sick Sam to gag. No one should have to go through this horror, she thought, wondering just how, if even given a chance, she would survive the ordeal.

_Damn it, why? Why me?_

She blinked hard, knowing that getting all panicky at that moment would most definitely get her killed.

"Don't want to end up like the others, right?" she told herself shakily, just the thought of her coworkers' deaths causing a shiver down her spine. Continuing into the rather tight and dark corridor, she flickered on the flashlight she foraged from before, the light dimming every few seconds; a signal that if she didn't hurry, she'd not only be alone in a nightmarish lab, but also in the pitch dark.

Shots were fervently being shot above, the sounds echoing into her ears like knives on a chalkboard. At that same instant, she glanced down at the gun in her hands, some blood still fresh from the sickening event before. She prayed she wouldn't have to use it, but at the same time feeling a kind of comfort she couldn't really explain. She obviously didn't have any experience with a gun but it was all she had for now.

Sam felt a trickle of sweat drip down her back, then down her forehead. Despite the dankly frigid basement air, she felt feverish, her body shaking from both nervousness and the temperature difference. She stopped mid-stride and gasped sharply when her foot sank into something. She wildly flashed the light at it, instinctively backing away ever so slowly as she realized it was some muddy trail that continued down the hall. It wasn't until the smell worsened that she paused briefly, and the realization smacked her in the face just as she discovered that the trail was blood, not mud. Filthy, rotting, repugnant blood.

_So much, so much blood. Can't be, just can't be. . ._

It seemed to trail onward and onward, Sam merely following the trail with the dying flashlight, the blood trail just barely curving around the corner in which she could not see. She hesitated for what felt like minutes, hardly noticing that she was emitting a whining sound of fear and disgust.

"I have to keep moving," she thought, "if I go back now, I could get in the way of their gunfight. But if I just stand idly here, the light will go out and. . ."

It was enough motivation. She kept up the pace, her rubbery legs ready to get her away from any possible danger. The corner itself had some sort of box set in the wall, apparently some sort of device for the electricity in the basement. The wiring inside of it was all cut, the wires sliced symmetrically; somebody had done it purposely. Her heart then sank even lower than it already had as she came around and saw, as much as heard the horrific death.

She gave out a strangled, involuntary gasp that disturbed the creature's feast. About several feet away, the hunched over figure of what looked like a person was _eating _a person in a lab suit. No, the flesh was still intact. It was-

_-sucking the blood . . . !_

It turned its face around so abruptly, Sam had no time to react. Its face was as pale as the other embryos that came out of both the scientist and Timothy Jones. Only something was quite different about it. Its sudden gaze startled her, her unsteady hands letting go of the flashlight in her panic. The light went amuck, the final view of the violent, skinny creature leaping for her blood. She started for a sprint back where she came, her right hand on the wall, guiding her as she heard the thing scrabbling at the sticky floor, breathing high-pitched and heavily with a bloodlust she could not recognize. The vampire monster let out a high screech of frustration a second later as if not able to navigate to her quick enough. Sam reached the stairs, fumbling for her gun– and fell straight on ass, part of the steps pressing painfully against her right thigh.

_Ugh, no!_

In a desperate response to save herself, she flung her arm forward and fired two quick shots, the _ping _of a shot going off. A few seconds later, she listened carefully for any sounds. There was a gurgling, liquid noise coming from the ground just a few feet in front of her. Was it dead?

Using her only free hand, she felt her way up the stairs, her heart pulsing from her chest to her skin. The gun was aiming at the distant darkness, at the sound of a creature that was hopefully dying.

She noticed that the firing from the floor above had ceased. If the other two were dead, she, too, would meet her maker. The slightly ajar door behind her, the one leading back up, was suddenly thrown open, a deep breathing sound coming her way. She struggled to let out a word, any word that would call over anybody who lived, but the fear in her gut and the pain on her hip were too excruciating. She was either saved of doomed.

In the lovely, marble-floored room, the double doors swung slowly open, startling the dark-skinned man in a black tux and a long-haired man donning a ponytail and a blue tux. The sound of high-heeled shoes clattered softly against the floor as the lady came over toward the desk of the man in black.

"Hey, you called?" questioned the lady dressed in red as she reached black's desk. Blue moved over a bit as red leaned against the dark brown davenport.

"Ah, I see you finally found the time to speak with me," black responded, a mirthfulness behind his dark eyes.

"Don't forget, you're holding my money." Blue smiled at her, but she paid him no mind. "I managed to pay a visit to that 'pharmaceutical corporation' you spoke of earlier."

"Oh really?" blue replied from the side, his long, brown hair and blue eyes adding to his youthful look. "You must _really _be serious about this, huh?" Red just rolled her eyes away from him.

"Well? How did it turn out? Was it what you had expected?" Black put his hands together upon his desk, looking more interested than before she arrived.

"Hmph, they forgot to roll out my red carpet," red replied in kind. "They definitely weren't the most hospitable types. Then again, if they even took a glance at me, they would tell you-know-who. It'd be a rap for the both of us."

Black nodded briskly, looking down at his papers and twiddling his fingers on the desk. He grabbed hold of a sheet and lifted up for her to see. Blue leaned forward to take a glimpse, and red angled aside a little instinctively.

"It seems he has gotten his way after all," black stated simply, his mood becoming more foul-sounding than his previous amused one. "Somehow, he has gotten a sample of the Los Plagas and used it to gain access to the B.O.W. cache. He must have 'bugged' several of my higher ranking men." He glared mildly at red and then at blue.

"Impossible. What I gave him was-."

"Yes, I know." Black kept his eyes on red, searching for any look of guilt or defiance. He only saw slight agitation hidden under a cool gaze. Blue had just been looking down.

"My only last guess is that _somebody _synthesized the true sample before you got a chance to grab hold of it," black said, his stare still locked onto red's.

"Well, it couldn't have been the Spaniard. He couldn't have had the time or chance. Maybe it was. . ."

Blue interrupted her even before black could do so. "Why don't we continue that investigation before we proceed to newer ones, huh?"

"That won't be necessary," black said. "I'm already a step ahead. Lets have him thinking that he's in charge, at least for a little while. I want you two to begin looking into the American government. They've been notoriously shady as of late."

Red had already thought about a way that could be accomplished when black broke out again.

"You've both been pretty sloppy about the cover-ups. Let's hope this time will be much smoother."

With those last words, red and blue started for the door, not saying a word, starting for their next mission.

S H A W N

The words tore at him, giving way to unwanted feelings that Shawn had held in for hours. "No rescue?" How could that be possible? What were they thinking! His fury was gaining dominance over his sorrow, building and burning after everything he had underwent thus far.

"NO, there must be someone who can get us out! They couldn't just _leave _all of us here!" There was a brief pause as Jim sighed inwardly.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked, Shawn calming at the simplistic tone in his voice. "Have you noticed something _strange_ about this operation, I mean about those that were deployed?"

". . . they're the same people we're always deployed with, Jim. What's the point?"

"Doesn't this particular scenario remind you of anything at all, Shawn?"

The changing strain in his voice began to scare Shawn. He had a pretty good idea at what he was hinting at, but . . .

"Just what are you getting at, Jim? What are you implying? Is it . . . no it can't be."

Jim just nodded slowly, his eyes appearing dowsed with tears that wouldn't fall. Shawn knew. It was Operation Biohazard, the operation gone awry. The same one the government denied, that nearly everyone told him was just a dream. And Jim had known. He knew it. It was never a dream. With that thought, he also finally realized help _wasn't_ on its way.

"Damn it, Jim! What're we gonna do! If the government is against us for whatever the reason, what can we do!"

"Shawn," Jim called out, his voice one of reason, his eyes those of stern truth. "Freaking out won't help us, now. We need to get to the others and hurry. We need to get the hell out of this fucked-up land and get help. We'll save those we can along the way, but that's it. There no longer is a need to fulfill our duty. If we can find a safe passage, everything will turn out . . . well. We can go back and drink this off, pay our respects to our fallen comrades, and get those political scum for this! That, I do promise. For those that died needlessly here. . . and at that miserable operation."

Jim himself had been trembling slightly, but nonetheless, he was strong. His spiky blond hair revealed more sweat dripping from his scalp; he must've been exhausted. Shawn raised the shotgun and turned around.

"Well, I'll take the lead. Tell me where to turn."

"You sure, I mean it'd be easier if I just led." Shawn shook his head.

"You look beat, Jim. I'll take the lead." Jim smiled weakly, taking one last look at the mangled body of the beast with the nails he had sniped.

The two of them stared at the hole in the ceiling. Shawn spoke out first.

"If this door is locked over here, how did you get to the second floor?"

"Where I came in from, the stairs led up to this floor. For a minute, I'd have thought I was already on the first floor, and that this were a basement or something." Jim gave him a shrug, then pointed up. "Mind giving me a boost? I'll pull you up and we can go back the way I came." Shawn helped him up. He jumped up to grab hold of Jim's hand and pulled himself over. He couldn't help but wonder how cold his hands felt. It was quite chilly inside the eerie mansion, but his own hands were hot and sweaty from running and shooting.

Dismissing his curiosity, Shawn took in his new surroundings, noticing a lavish grand piano, a couple of well-kept couches, and several candles still lit, some overturned and burnt out, probably from the impact of the giant monster leaping through the floor. Another gaping hole led to a third floor, but going through the trouble was worthless; they had a strict time frame.

A dead body lay face-down, right below a hung painting of a man getting ready for an execution via guillotine. An ironic, yet depressing and frightening image. Several bullet holes were strewn not at the head, but at the chest.

"Let's go," Jim insisted. They passed through the next door, a hall extending to a solid wall. More bodies were riddled through the hall, two of them a white sickly color. Those two were also completely nude. . .

"Jim, I-."

Shawn noticed Jim scratching persistently at his neck, at the right side. He grabbed his arm to stop him and peered at the red rash. There were two holes punctured deep enough to look like bites, the holes clogged slightly with dried blood and puss.

"Jim, how- when did you get this?" he asked, his gaze sharp and worried. The expression on Jim's face betrayed a look of fear and acknowledgment, that the reason why Shawn asked was because of something horrible. Each one of the dead vampire zombies had two holes on their necks. What popped out from their chests were nothing human, but embryo-like. And Jim knew it all. His denial had boosted his morale, his hope. It gave him the strength to keep going, but the recognition hit him like a ton of bricks, and he was suddenly sweating profusely.

"Shawn, follow me," he commanded, his voice low and shaky. He walked calmly through the hall and toward the end. Shawn proceeded a few seconds after, feeling dizzy with anxiety and dread. How could he be. . . ?

"Jim, I-."

"Shawn, this is it. This wall spins around to some bedroom. We'll-."

Whatever he was going to say was drowned out by a large crash coming from the room they'd just come from. The door slammed open and _off,_ the door flying out the window in an array of shiny glass shards, and out came the monster with the claws, many vine-like whips spurring out from where its head should have been. In a matter of seconds, the horrible face was remodeled by the tendrils perfectly, just the way it had been before. The whips disappeared and in the next moment, it was dashing toward them.

"GO!" Jim shouted, and he shoved Shawn into the revolving wall, to be left alone, to hear Jim's machine gun go off behind the stone wall.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

As the footsteps came slowly down the dusty stairway, Samantha picked herself up, wincing at the pain at her hips. Her gun was still shakily held at the heavy, gasping noise down below.

"D-Drake, Cliff?"

To her relief, there was a reply, a _human_ reply.

"Sam, keep moving!" Drake shouted, the words echoing through the dim hall. More creatures could be heard from the upper floor, their hungry groans sounding savage and mindless, almost desperate.

_Uhhhh. . ._

The monster below had recovered and was sounding quite agitated.

"Get down!" Drake told Sam. Bam! Bam! With just two shots the vampire was out, its sharp cry lowering to a whispering pitch.

"Where are they all coming from?" Drake could easily hear the desperation in Sam's voice. But he knew that every second wasted meant the starved zombies gained a few more steps.

"Just go!"

Cliff helped Sam up, then led the way down the blood-soaked hall, Drake taking the rear. Luckily, the rotting creatures were not capable of understanding the concept of opening doors. Only a half dozen of them managed to enter, the last many banging pointlessly at the heavy metallic door.

Cliff turned the corner and past the dead body on the ground, holding Sam's arm tightly. He knelt down quickly upon seeing a dim streak of light across the floor. With Sam's flashlight in one hand, he searched the gray-walled hallway, noticing yet another turn, this time to the right. Hearing several more shots behind them, Sam pulled away, fearing for Drake.

"He's fighting them all by himself, do something!" she cried, her voice barely audible with the high _pangs_ of Drake's gun ringing throughout.

"Over here," Cliff signaled to her, pointing to a gray, metal door on the right side of the wall, blending so well they both had overseen it. Soon enough, Drake peered from the corner, still blasting. Cliff opened it, his gun scanning the small room.

"It's safe, get in," Cliff verified, moving to where Drake currently stood. And Sam was alone, alone in a laboratory freak-show-of-a-room, feeling as useless as ever.

_Damn it, can't defend myself, not too good with a gun, hell, and I don't even have a bandage to offer._

She took her mind off of that last thought and decided that she'd at least examine the room closer. The walls were all made of brick surprisingly, adding a cold, dank feel to the dim room. It had been quite lighter inside, probably some other form of light source hidden. A ventilation shaft's lid lay on the ground not too far from what appeared to be a generator of some sort. And right above it was the dark, gaping rectangular-shaped shaft, cob webs dancing limply on its edges.

Sam realized that she was in a storage room when she noticed the nicely stacked wooden crates against the back wall. With that idea still ripe in her mind, she felt a spark of hope and desperation that suddenly made her feel more of value to the little band they had. Within some of these boxes must be something, _anything_ they could use for defense.

"Damn it, come on! There's gotta be something, a shotgun, magnum, even a goddamn cattle prod will do!"

The firing outside the rather small room died down at last. With that respect, came a deep feeling of trust that they had survived. As long as they cooperated, she strongly believed they had a chance.

The door opened, the squeal of the hinges lacking the creepy echos the hall provided. Cliff and Drake stepped in, the two men's faces filled with awed and fearful expressions, ones Sam's seen too many times in one day.

"Over here," she directed them, pointing to the crates. "This is a storage room, so maybe there's something here we could use."

"Worth a shot," Cliff said tiredly, his tone rather disappointed.

"I'll go make sure if there are any people left alive," Drake suggested, his back already turned to them. "They may all end up like that other doc."

"Wait," cried Sam. "We're going with you." She paused briefly, feeling almost hesitant to say it. "There's . . . something else down here."

"What do you mean?" Drake questioned, his face meeting hers evenly. Even Cliff's facial expression became distorted with concern.

"Yeah, we didn't see anything," Cliff added. "Wait, if you don't feel safe around me, I understand. I mean, there _are _other things lurking around each bend, but. . ."

"_No._ There's something other than the zombies upstairs and those vampires. Did you guys see that path of blood on the ground?" The two nodded, seeming uninterested and skeptical at first, but nonetheless worried.

"Well, the body next to the path wasn't the cause. Think about it. The vampire sucked it dry, so there shouldn't be blood smeared everywhere. And for something make someone bleed that much, and drag it down the entire hall. . ."

"The entire hall? But it was only a little further past this door." Cliff looked more confused, but Drake probably had gotten Sam's message by that time.

Sam's hands became a bit shakier, her voice struggling to keep cool in front of the others.

"The blood trail. . . it led past the body."

There was a moment of silence, one filled with nauseating dread. Sam gave the boxes one more quick glance and sighed, deciding to rummage through a bit more. The others did the same, going through endless piles of packed syringes, surgical tools, and other lab horrors. Less than a minute later, they all paused, feeling tension and panic circulate through their bodies.

"Did you hear that, too?" Sam whispered, her attention shifting immediately toward the ceiling.

"Yeah, it's right above. . ."

Drake trailed off, following the metal bumping sound, the clawing, and the uneven breathing of someone, _something_. Whatever it was, it was struggling to get out of some tight spot, so it wasn't upstairs.

"Oh, my God . . ." Sam muttered shakily. Her eyes wandering elsewhere.

"W-What is it?" Cliff's voice was just as loose.

"The shaft, the ventilation shaft!" Drake shouted before Sam could get out another word. And before either of them could move an inch, a loud noise filtered through from outside the hall. The lid to something in the hall must have fallen, or so it sounded like it. There was a _thud_ of something hefty hitting the ground, just outside the hall.

As they heard the unnerving entrance of the thing just feet away from the room, the sloshing and bumping noise against thin metal became more easily heard, the sound reaching the ventilation hole crawling beneath Sam's skin. They held up their guns, pointing at the blackness of the dusty hole-

-and a human-shape hand stuck out, each finger a yellow, gross color. The other hand reach out to the other end as it fought to pull itself out, or more accurately, _slither_ out. And out lurched its head, an abomination without a name. The bald creature's "face" appeared to have been torn off, but not by a monster's claws or teeth. It didn't have any nostrils, or lips, or eyelids. In fact, it didn't seem like the top torso was reacting in any way, just its arms.

"What in God's name. . ."

They waited, not out of patience, but more out of terror and shock. But it wasn't until its arms pulled out the rest of itself, the horribly large load, that their jaws dropped. The lower torso of the pus-covered monster was dripping and slimy, like that of a slug's body. Tentacles whipped out around its shapeless blob-like lower body, having features of some kind of leech. But at the end of the repulsive abdomen was the hips and legs of the "human" part of its body.

In about ten seconds, the creature stood up, nearly eleven, twelve feet in height, its upper torso atop of the gelly innards, all lifted by pale, dead legs. An eye opened at the center of the body, inside the mucous holding the mutant's limp upper parts.

"Oh, shit, shit, shit!" Sam became frantic, her gun shaky and aiming wildly at the looming corpse that shouldn't, couldn't possibly be alive. Drake had already begun firing, the shots puncturing through the mucous, then closing right up. In response, the eye shut close and the whip-like appendages swung around frantically to catch the gunfire. Each of his bullets were quickly stopped short by the slimy tentacles, the thing wobbling its unbalanced body closer to them.

The hybrid's gel body seemed to open from somewhere beneath, strands of sticky, dark sinew thinning to reveal a wide, toothy _mouth_ of some sort, foreboding their painful demise.

The ceremony was close to completion, but it seemed that a band of rogues were disturbing their preparations. The U.S. agents, of course. It seemed that they would have to refer to "Plan B". As much as he opposed it, "Randolph" imagined he had no choice. They already finished unearthing the enormous, heavy thing. It was only a matter of distracting the Americans long enough to carry the structure to a much hospitable area. And then there was that sly Wesker to worry about. He walked through the secret castle chamber, approaching a pale woman with long, straight jet-black hair.

"How goes our little relocation project?" he asked, a stern expression on his barely visible face.

"Gracefully, my lord. We'll have it transported in approximately one to two hours, depending on outside obstacles." He grimaced for a brief moment, then resiliently stood, shaking his head.

"And what are these obstacles you speak of, Effeminette?"

"Albert Wesker has released yet another cache of wretched bio weapons. They are scattered throughout the forests, and are expert hunters. We've also overheard the fools speaking via communication device. We managed to intercept their lines just enough to listen to a ten-minute conversation, then lost connection."

"Interesting. You shall have tell me more. Who was he speaking to?"

"It was a female, although I couldn't say for sure. He called her by the name of 'Torque', presumably her codename." Effeminette paused to fix her silky smooth hair, the dark tint adding a morbid beauty along with her haunting face and her small black dress and cape. "They spoke of a plan that involved an American. Wesker said he needed for him to cut us off from our selected path."

"Wait," he said all of a sudden, "I may know who his spy friend is. The only person I've been able to see a few times. We're being followed. Get Hisaru. You and him must stop this spy as quickly as possible. Wesker's little wench is detrimental to our plans. With all eyes gauged, we shall purge this ridiculous world of its idle conflicts. Ah, a world without obligations or meaningless values! We shall strike down those who threaten this dream! I've held on to this moment for to many lifetimes, Effeminette. Go, and make His Highness proud."

Several armed men followed her down a narrow hall, and back into the confines of the castle's basic rooms. Things were complicated, but he knew he would be able to handle it. It was a plan that was nearly four hundred years in the making. And who knew? Maybe this American nuisance would make a suitable new host for his next life.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Shawn gave up tackling and kicking the hidden stone wall-door. Apparently it was stuck, and Jim was alone and struggling.

He had heard the occasional firing of an automatic, followed by the thumping of footsteps echoing down the hall. With a mental image of the not-so-killable monster fresh in his head, he hurried out of what appeared to be a nicely garnished bedroom, a mockery of the horror just on the other side of the mansion.

Passing down another narrow hallway, this time with two doors on the right and a single door at the end, he scurried to that lone door. He needed to get around the other end before that thing caught up to Jim. Shawn prayed that the house went all the way around. If not, Jim may well be pretty much screwed. He heard a fierce _boom_ from somewhere in the house, the entire place shaking as if a wrecking ball collided into the side of the old building. The windows to Shawn's left would've probably shattered if they were still in mint condition.

After turning around many corners and smashing through nearly a half-dozen doors, Shawn came to a library of some sort, noticing a large hole in the ceiling just as quick as he noticed the books all strewn about.

_The third floor!_

Shawn ended up going back, his heart pounding. For some strange reason, he felt something great was amiss. He found the stairway he had skipped just a minute ago. He climbed up slowly, the unusual silence making him feel as if his hurrying was in vain. Many paintings and portraits were hung on the wall, the majority slanted from the explosive crashes of the monster.

When he hit the last of the stairs leading up, he could have sworn he heard something scuttle just a few feet away. However, his senses were sharpened, and he didn't _see_ anything. Blaming his imagination, Shawn mentally confirmed that he had two paths to choose from. To his left, there was a dimmed hall, the florescent lighting blinking on and off sporadically. The right led straight to a door, followed by a narrow turn down to the right.

"Jim, if you're still alive, hang on!" he told himself, choosing not to sway his resolve. Jim wouldn't die that quickly, and with that firm belief, Shawn stuck to the left where the windows lined the wall. He would eventually make a roundabout trip, hardly unable to locate the cat and mouse. Just as he walked cautiously down the darkened hall, the scuttling came again from behind him, the noises getting closer.

Nothing was there. Not on the walls, ceiling, or the floor, convincing him that he was, in fact being followed. He raised his shotgun, not caring about his current supply of ammo. Whatever was lurching nearby was quite the stealthy one. Of course, it could also be a person, but the chances were slim as opposed to another monster. He backed a bit, hearing nothing but silence and the creaking of the old gothic mansion-

-and he noticed something, something _disturbing_, not like everything else wasn't. However, this couldn't be real. A little bit down the hall he came from, he saw a _face_ on the wall. It was distorted, like the face of a person in agony, the mouth wide open and the eyes wide with pain. No doubt about it, he saw a face. A parasite bringing forth vampires and a disease mimicking zombies were hard to swallow, but a ghost?

Shawn was about to back up and continue down the path he was heading, but the face turned, the wall moving. He aimed the gun at it that instant, and the face came off, a body appearing just in front of him. It materialized right at that moment, like a chameleon, the face and body structure that of a human, but so many other things so . . . off. The body, having a brownish sinewy appearance, stood upright. It had long nails, not like that other brute, but long enough. It was thin, yet muscular. But more terrifying was its face, the expression of pure torment frozen on its dead body, like some doll or something.

The thing began toward him, its walk strangely stiff, cracking noises sounding from its joints. Feeling uneasy, he carefully aimed his gun and fired, only to see the thing still standing. Had he missed? It happened all too fast, but Shawn thought the creature had actually _stretched_ to avoid the shots! It seemed impossible, the spread shot should've taken its slender, delicate body _out_. And the monster's appendages dangled loosely, its legs kicking against the wall to its left. It grabbed hold of the ceiling with its chimeric nails, hung down, and kicked him with both feet, all in the moment it took Shawn to aim again. It shrieked horribly, jumping on top of him and ready to tear at his face, when-

PANG, PSHHHH!

Blood sprayed everywhere, the thing's head blown to shit. All of this happened in about thirty seconds tops. Shawn was in a brief shock, his gaze leaving the headless monster only when he saw someone walk toward him. His body slid down against the wall, sitting for awhile to catch his breath and take in what he just witnessed.

"Are you okay?" came voice, one of a woman. Shawn knew it was Eva before he even looked at her. She wore a tight black sleeveless shirt and a black tight skirt, her other outfit resting on her shoulder. She unstrapped her rifle and set it down, smiling.

"P-Perfect timing," Shawn managed to say, suddenly feeling quite stupid for acting and sounding unprofessional.

"My, we've certainly slipped up, haven't we?"

"Eva," Shawn began, getting up slowly, "have you seen a man with blond, short hair, medium build. Hell, the one being chased by a bloodthirsty monster with long nails.

"If it weren't for the 'blond hair' part, I would say it was you," she joked.

"Eva, this is no time for games. He is an agent, just like me, and I have to help him before its too late!"

"I'm sorry, but I haven't seen him at all. I just got here through one of those broken windows." She paused, reloading her rifle and putting it away. "If it's Jim, I know he could handle it. He's probably on his way to the castle as we speak."

"But, he may be infected with the parasite!"

Eva simply turned away and began walking toward the other hall he had skipped.

"Just follow me, Shawn," she said tiredly.

"Wait! I still have a few questions I want answers to pretty much now!"

"Can they wait until we reach the castle? These creatures Wesker dubbed 'mannequins' are all over the place, and they're skillful hunters."

"Wesker! How do you . . ."

"I found a file addressed to him. Apparently, Wesker's goons cooperated with the Zalamel Clan to get a hold of their sacred bug. Wesker did experiments somewhere at a nearby facility. This is one of them."

". . ."

"Well? Your allies need you. Are you gonna stand in awe forever? If we head there now, we can save them. If what you say about Jim is correct, then there's no hope for him. So lets get going."

Her words were more organized, different from when he last met her. He had so many questions for her, yet, for some reason, he felt he wouldn't receive the answers to most of them at all.

S A M A N T H A

They were running short on time. All at once, in a desperate attempt to save themselves, they fired at the gel-thing. Still nothing. They were losing ground between the monster in front of them and the one just outside the door.

"No!" cried Sam as the monster managed to grab her arm with sticky tentacles. Drake fired at the "human" legs, the creature losing balance, but it clung onto Sam nonetheless.

Moaning in disgust and utter terror, Sam's eyes met something that her mind was unable to comprehend for a moment. It was a weapon, but right behind the thing.

"Behind it!" she shouted with a her might, still fighting to free herself before the mouth would swallow her alive. In a flash of seconds, she saw Cliff holding the strange weapon.

"Get her off!" he told Drake, who ceased his firing and ran toward her. At that instant, the mouth sprayed something in front of him, causing him to back up, wiping his face. It some sort of gas, and obviously either acidic or caustic.

"Drake!" she yelled as she was being drawn into the gel creature's mouth. Cliff had no other choice. He fired, the odd weapon blasting a swift, crackling shot of electricity. The monster made a deep, croaking noise as it stumbled to its side. Sam let out a sharp cry of pain and was dropped to the ground.

Cliff fired again, the bolt from the spark shooter illuminating the room with an ear shattering _zap_. The creature began to smoke, as if caught ablaze. Then, the gel loosened from its host, slithered toward a wall and began to melt, the same way a slug would when doused with salt. Drake was still rubbing at his eyes, but still ran to where he heard Sam. She could still hear him calling to her, but it was fading and suddenly she felt like she couldn't breathe. She heard Cliff yell something, heard the fizzing noise of the gun going off again, and then everything went black.

C L I F F

It was over with. The other creature outside the door crashed through the door, but it was blasted to a smoking pile of gelly shit, the smell like something chemical. He let out a sigh of incredible relief, but his eyes widened when he heard the sound of electrical fizzing. Drake heard it, too, freezing for a second to reassure himself. He grabbed the unconscious girl and ran right behind Cliff, who nearly felt as much as he heard the explosion behind him.

_Holy shit, should've known that would happen and with the chemicals and all and who the _hell_ put a cattle prod in a surgical storage room!_

His ears rang, giving him a hell of a headache. He raised his head to look around, but his vision was kind of fuzzy, probably from the chemicals stored in that room. Well, there wasn't a room in there anymore, the walls and just about everything else in there fried.

When his vision and hearing began to return, he could only hear the sound of flames scorching the remains of the room, and their only way back outside. There were occasional brief explosions coming from somewhere in the flames, so daringly diving through them would be suicide.

"The others, where're the others?" he whispered to himself, realizing just how dependent he was suddenly feeling toward them and kind of liking it. He was always the older brother, and the most neglected . . .

There was a voice from somewhere to his left. Cliff got up and saw Drake on the floor, his body shielding Sam.

"Geez, you're so professional and all. She wasn't gonna get hurt at this distance, you know?"

"She's unconscious! Who knows what could've happened to her."

The two got up, Drake grabbing hold of Sam. He sighed with relief, his face all red and irritated and sweaty. Cliff led the way down the rest of the hall, noting that the explosion had obliterated a nearby door to the left. He continued down the rather empty hall and found two doors, one on the left and one straight ahead. The one to the left was locked, but the one in front of them seemed more "appealing" anyway. It was a strange room, he decided as he entered. There was no immediate threat, but something about screamed murder.

"Lay her down on that bench," Cliff said, his tone careful. He glance around meticulously feeling watched by something. All around him were test tubes clouded with some strange solution. He assumed live things were still in them, but although in a cryogenic stasis of some sort, couldn't help feeling uneasy.

"Great, an incubator for mutants!" Drake muttered. "We can't stay here any longer."

There was a mess of tubes, ranging in height from palm-sized to human-sized. Cliff didn't dare touch anything.

"So, Drake, why were you here?" Cliff asked out of the blue.

". . . why do you ask?"

"Just curious. I was here for about three years with my parents. They were researchers."

"Don't tell me . . . here?"

"No, otherwise, I would've been here by now. Well, then again, I could care less what happened to them. But, my brother . . ."

His expression became grim. So saddened to the point that Drake thought he would shed tears.

"We got separated. He's always been the only one who listened! And I swore to him that I'd go back for him once I found Mom and Dad. But, they left."

"What do you mean 'left'?"

"LEFT! They flew away somewhere further northeast in a chopper. They left me and my brother to die!"

". . ."

"That's why I have to find him! I won't leave until I find him."

"Why didn't you say anything before?" Cliff's face was red with anger and despair. He didn't answer for awhile.

"I don't know. I guess I tried to bring myself to believe that he was gone. But something in me tells me that he isn't! I won't just abandon the chance to save Devon if there's still some hope!"

"Any idea where he might be?"

"I . . . yeah . . . remember those agents I told you about before?"

"Yeah, do you remember exactly where they were headed?"

"I told Devon to follow them closely while I went out for my parents. He must be with them! I could've sworn they came by this way . . ."

Drake sighed. "So, you don't know where they are?" he said, more of a confirmation than a question.

"I do remember them saying something about a dragon, or something. This was when they were discussing where they could go." Feeling clueless, Drake let another sigh, this time as he got up.

"I'll help you, but only a quick check. And it has to be along our way. We're not . . ."

"Thanks, Drake!" he said, a tone of weak happiness in his youthful voice.

"But first thing's first. We gotta wake her up. She's still fine, the shock wasn't nearly enough to do much, but she's fainted."

"What can we do? Are we just going to wait?"

"Nothing a bit of alcohol can't fix, and I mean that!" Cliff snickered slightly, then came closer to the pair.

"Um, Drake, you still didn't tell me why _you_ were here." He remained quiet for some seconds, his attention seeming elsewhere. "Drake . . . ?"

" . . . I'll tell you when the time is right. Just not right now."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

With Eva leading the way, things seemed to go much easier. Together, they defeated at least three more of those strange monsters she called Mannequins. Still, Shawn couldn't help but feel uneasy around someone he felt he hardly knew. He was basically entrusting his life in her hands.

_And if she does have any kind of relation with that psycho, Wesker, then I'm done for._

Eva suddenly stopped at a door decorated differently from the rest, a serpent-like dragon design spiraling around the door's frame. Eva had a key shaped like the insignia of her clan's tattoo, reminding Shawn of yet another question he meant to ask her.

"So, how did you escape from Hisaru? Must've been hell for you."

". . . it was actually quite simple, really."

"What? How so?"

She walked on ahead into the room proceeding the fancy door, not another word. He followed, not thrilled that she was evading every important question. The next hall was actually outdoors. It was some walkway with walls and all, except the ceiling opened up to the sky, revealing a partially lit bluish light. It must've been at least four in the morning by now. The walkway led to some altar of some sort with a rather large statue of a dragon. Eva paused again and sighed.

"What's the matter?" Shawn asked trying his best to conceal any uncertainty in his voice.

"Ugh, the damn statue closed on me. Must've been by accident or something."

"Dragon statue, huh?"

Shawn studied the statue for a moment, noticing not long after the square shape indentation.

_Aha! Another puzzle, these people are too serious._

Feeling great accomplishment at the fact that he had the key to their salvation, he took out the block he had found at the cave before. When he went to look at Eva, she had been aiming her Uzi at something high above.

"Hmm, not bad, really," the voice of man sounded.

"Hisaru!" Eva spat, hesitating to fire.

"I'm afraid you're too late. Your friends are waging a battle with our . . . pets."

Shawn fired without even thinking twice, his shotgun blast striking the stone decor above where Hisaru stood seconds ago. He then stood on the right wall just a few feet away.

"Even if you reach them now, you'll get annihilated as well. Why don't you both just give up already?"

"Bastard!" yelled Shawn, firing another round. Again it missed. Eva put her hand on his shoulder as to signal his ceasing.

"We can still put up one hell of a fight if get there on time. He doesn't know what he's talking about, he's just trying to scare us. We've got plenty of ammo there. Let's go!"

With the stone in place, the dragon statue shifted slowly backward, revealing some more steps. It was dark and damp the further they went, but it appeared safer than most of the other parts.

"This must be the dragon's den, right?" Shawn asked.

"No, we're about to head there in just a little bit."

There was some loud shout somewhere down the tunnel, the language in Romanian. Realizing it was probably more vampires, Shawn reloaded his gun and readied it. Three villagers, or at least that's what they looked like, stumbled down the narrow tunnel, bearing their abnormal fangs and nails, their motives as simplistic as ever. He fired immediately, the sound of flesh tearing from snapping bone echoing in the dankness of the passage.

"Wait," Eva said, moving in with her Uzi and aiming.

Their was an additional popping noise that sounded liquid and gross. From each of the bodies sprouted pale little vampire creatures, skittering toward them as if they had known, as if they were inside _controlling_ the human hosts.

Eva blasted them with an endless spray of machine gun bullets, leaving fleshy pulps of white and red. No blood poured from them at all, causing Shawn to wonder exactly what this parasite did to these poor victims.

Continuing to the end, the hallway led to an outdoor cliff. A wide bridge made of stone stretched over a rushing river, most likely the same one that washed him away.

"Let's go," Eva signaled him. As Eva took her first steps on the bridge, Shawn peered down into the clear water. Something huge swirled across the water's surface, only offering him a couple of seconds to react.

"Eva!"

She turned around, and Shawn was diving, shoving her out of the way when-

BOOM!

The whole segment of the bridge where she stood on just seconds ago was gone, a flash of something long, bluish, and sticky sinking back into the watery depths. Their way back was blocked. Shawn grabbed her arm and pulled her up from the ground. When they headed to the other end, the _only_ end left, the bluish tentacles rose up again, slamming onto their only escape route. Luckily, the bridge didn't collapse yet. However, the tentacle was still in the way.

"What now!" Eva exclaimed, obviously not expecting something like this.

Something rose from the broken end of the bridge, something that was beyond comprehendible. It was a long, snake-like creature, its mouth shorter than a serpent's. Its fangs were fully exposed for lack of lips, and its eyes weren't reptilian at all, but more . . . unnatural. It had spikes protruding from all over its back, putrid bodies impaled on nearly all of them. Apparently the beast was feasting on anyone crossing the river. After the gruesome view, Shawn was convinced this was the end of the road for him.

C L I F F

Things were beginning to look up for Cliff. Despite the horror he had to witness, he'd finally be able to find his brother. He was a very smart kid, so it was more likely that they'd find him with the team of agents. He had told him to follow them since it was safer than following him to who-knows-where. And suddenly, he was glad. He hadn't felt this close to anyone since his brother. He began to wonder if he was truly a young adult or a mere child . . .

"Hey, Cliff, she finally woke up," Drake said, waking him from his minor daydream.

"Oh, cool. Now we can find a way outta this miserable place."

"Uh, ugh, Drake? Cliff?" Sam was a bit disoriented for awhile, but she managed to sit up and all, a very good sign. "What the hell happened to me?"

"To make a long story short," Drake began, "you got injured, we killed the monsters, but our only way back was blown to shit."

"So, we need to keep moving so we can get the hell away from everything," Cliff added. "But not before we look for my brother."

"Your . . . brother?"

"Let's keep moving, we've no time to waste," Drake said, not sounding too enthusiastic about the idea.

"Well, where do we go?" she asked, her voice still a bit weak.

"We need to find a way to get the electricity going so we can get the computer console in this room," Drake answered. "Only then can we get this friggin' door to open just outside the hall."

Sam nodded, taking in the eerie surroundings of the lab. Meanwhile, Cliff took notice of the generators stored away in a corner of the room. The generators seemed to be not operating, several parts missing from the sides.

"Hey, take a look at what I found. Looks like a generator of some kind. Maybe I can get it to work . . ."

"You go do that," Sam said, holding a couple of sheets in her weak hands, "I want to continue reading _this._"

S A M A N T H A

The report was directed toward some assistant in the lab. Apparently, it spoke of a passageway leading to the Dragon's Den, wherever the hell that was. Recovering from her dizziness, Sam began reading as quickly as she could, the constant humming of giant test tubes giving her shivers all the while.

" In case you forget where everything has to go, I've made this memo for your incompetent sake. Don't go and lose this, because, trust me, this will be you last!

Firstly, all MA series must go together, end of story! I'll give you their code names just because I'm nice. The Hunters, the Mannequins, and the Elitists go in that category. Next, don't forget that the "Tyrant" series have got to be delivered separately, not in bundles! This is important, since there are such limited amounts. This will include Tyrant, the Marauders, and Darkside.

By Wesker's orders, one of our Hydras has been released into the nearby rivers. It has grown into maturity, so its replication process should be underway. We just need a smaller supply of the infant Hydras.

If you think you can handle it, take these test subjects to the room next door and continue down to the very end. The password should be apparent. My name. My date of birth. My wife's name. And don't forget my middle name, too. If worse comes to worse, use someone nearby who ISN'T busy to use their fingerprint I.D.

Good luck! You're going to need it. "

Sam switched her gaze to Cliff, who was working on the generator. He appeared to have some sort of trouble, though.

"Almost done?" she asked, glancing from side to side at the tubes around her.

"I just need something to give it the volts it needs."

"Well, how about your cattle prod thing?" Drake mentioned.

"Hmm, maybe . . ."

Both Drake and Sam were quite astounded at how talented he was with handling things. He was amazing with a gun and did a fine job assembling the generator. He even managed to create a makeshift battery for it using the high-voltage gun he found before. With his gifts, he would make a great mechanic or member of the NRA.

"There, it won't last very long, but it'll be long enough for us to use the computer."

"Good, that's all we need."

Sure enough, the computers came on once the generator hooked up to the room's power supply. The monitor sprang to life, the nostalgic and worldwide famous Umbrella icon showing up. They were curious about it since the multibillion dollar corporation was dismantled after their conspiracies with Raccoon City and all was revealed. Sam knew all about it, and suddenly it all made sense.

It was Drake typing in everything quickly and efficiently. Soon enough, they heard the _clank_ sound that signaled the electronic door's lock opening. The three gave each other a small smile, just relieved that they'd finally be out of the horrible lab.

Suddenly, the lights gave out, and so did the computer monitor. The generator began to give off smoke, then started shooting small sparks.

"Ah, I guess that battery wasn't compatible at all," Cliff said amiably. "Did you need the computer for anything else."

"No . . ." Drake said calmly, although Sam as well as Cliff could tell that there was something else he wanted to find on it.

"Well, let's go. The sooner the better . . ."

Just as Sam finished speaking, she froze, feeling a mixture of extreme terror and despair. The humming drone of the tubes was no longer humming. And as expected, _things _were beginning to move within some of the test tubes, the slow cracking sound of thick glass not able to contain its occupants anymore. And three of them burst open one after the other, whitish liquid pouring out along with several mutants, the high pitched shattering of glass drowning out Sam's screams. The creatures were half reptile, half primate, hunched over and deliberately revealing long claws and teeth as a death threat to the three. No doubt, they were dead if they didn't act fast.

S H A W N

The swimming terror pulled out more dancing tentacles, its mouth beginning to drool perpetually. It roared in excitement, a sharp, high-pitched one that sent chills up Shawn's spine. His knees became rubbery, not knowing what to do first.

In an instant, a massive tentacle whipped from one side to the next.

"Get down!" Shawn cried, Eva ducking right on cue. Had the bluish thing smacked any of them, they'd most likely have knocked off the bridge and fallen onto its endless trail of spikes.

The creature tried once more, but again, Shawn gave her the signal. He glanced at the huge tentacle still blocking their way out. Shooting that enormous thing would probably be a waste of time and ammo. They needed to get to the others and survive this, but it was practically impossible!

The monster cried in frustration, a shriek that sounded like it had three voices. Its face came closer, the head itself at least three times his size. Without thinking, he opened fire on its monstrous face particularly at the eyes. It gave out slight shrieks of pain as each shot punched at its repulsive cheeks. However, it flinched far back when one connected to its left eye. Shaking and trembling, it struggled to keep them in view.

"Shawn, over here!" Eva shouted almost in a whisper, pointing toward their unblocked exit. That was their chance.

They ran as fast as they could, Eva reaching the end first and firing at the approaching beast to back him up. The beast was upon him, its tentacle seconds from smashing his only way to the other side, the difference between life and death-

-and PANG, PSHHH! The monster was writhing in pain as its other eye was blown away, the beast's head smashing at the opposite end of the bridge. Shawn found himself running upward as the bridge started to crumble into the river along with the hybrid monster. Its shriek could be heard just as Shawn leapt up to grab hold of the cliff's edge, dangling like a tiny insect on a branch of a tree.

Eva took hold of his hand and pulled him up.

"Almost lost you there," she said worriedly. "I guess I owe you one, now." Shawn had finished catching his breath when he finally spoke.

"If it weren't for you, I would've been its dinner."

She gave him a guilty look. "It wasn't me," she said pointing across to the other side. There stood Jim, his rifle tossed to the ground. He was injured, but appeared fully aware of what was going on.

"Jim . . ." Shawn whispered, anxiety gripping hold of him at the fact that they were so close, yet so far.

"Behind you!" Eva then shouted. And in a sad split second, the giant monster with the nails ran up from behind Jim and pierced right through his back, its face filled with an insatiable glee.

"No, Jim!"

Jim's face contained nothing but utter surprise and pain, then he was thrown off the cliff, soundless except for the bitter splash at the end. The monster glared at them from the other side, then disappeared into the wooded darkness.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The monstrosities popped out of their incubators at the worst possible time. Their reptilian, scaled bodies gleamed wetly even in the dimmed laboratory, bringing chills up Sam's spine. Just one would be enough to give her a heart-attack, but _three_?

"Oh, God . . ." Sam squealed as the hunched-over creatures lurched forward slowly, as if reveling in the moment of their great fear. When the nearest one came an inch forward, Cliff opened fire, the first shot punching a large hole into the nearest creature's thick neck. It shrieked horribly, then began to advance faster.

The other two lizard creatures split up, running in a way that seemed almost like a gorilla, only stealthier. They easily dodged broken tubes, even jumped _over_ smaller obstacles, leaping well over five feet into the air. Drake had been firing as well, Sam noticed, but nonetheless, she found herself bolting for the door out, hardly taking in that she'd be alone. But she knew she couldn't defend herself, to the point she thought she was in their way. With that final rationalization, she was in a hallway that smelled like singed chemicals. A cackling fire could be heard from somewhere around the corner of the hall, drowning out the gunfire just a room away. She began to weep, out of shock, fear, or maybe even guilt.

_God damn it! Why? Why do I have to be _here_? They're gonna die against those things!_

All kinds of sordid thoughts flashed through her mind in a matter of seconds, making her hands tremble. The door opened, yet she could hear shrieks still filling the air. Cliff emerged, slamming the door shut.

"C-Cliff . . . ? Drake, where's Drake!" she asked him with a voice quivering in utter distress.

"He . . . he got attacked, I couldn't . . . I couldn't do anything!"

"No . . . Drake . . . this can't be happening!"

Cliff sank to the floor, lost in the scene that occurred just five seconds before. In the moment that it took for Sam to say another word, a horrible shrill came from the incubator room. It was one of those monsters, only it sounded like it was in great pain. Both Sam and Cliff got up to their feet, wondering exactly what had happened. There was a distinct silence, followed by the sound of something crunching glass.

It was Cliff who easily put his hand on the handle and pulled. The room was silent. To Sam's astonishment, there were two corpses of those lizard creatures, one riddled with bullets, and the other-

"Oh . . . shit . . ."

The other's arms were _gone_. Ripped from its very sockets! And a few feet away stood Drake, pointing his gun down toward something they couldn't see. As Sam neared closer to his blood-drenched body, she could see that he was smiling. Below the barrel of his nine-millimeter, there was the last monster, still half alive, writhing in a pool of blood. Seemingly lost in some strange delirium, Drake fired once, twice, then one final time before the creature stopped moving.

"D-Drake?" she managed to say meekly.

He turned around, his expression appearing somewhat odd. However, he wore a saddened face, marked all over with blood. She carefully came closer, Cliff not far behind.

"How did you do it?" Cliff blurted out of nowhere. "How did you live through that?"

Sam couldn't even tell if he was bleeding or if all the blood came directly from those things. After all, it had to be him; he must've somehow ripped those muscular reptilian arms off. But without even a scratch?

Drake put his gun away and wiped the bit of blood on his face, looking kind of shaken.

"I . . . I don't know. I don't know what happened . . ."

Sam turned around, not knowing what the hell to think or say. She thought hard for the next couple of seconds, but she couldn't go out and say it.

"Let's go, we don't have much time to waste."

S H A W N

They were jogging through some wooded pathway, not saying a word to each. Shawn could tell that regardless of what Eva was hiding, she did feel a kind of remorse for the death of Jim. It was the greatest injustice, after all. Like he said, the assholes who did all of this were going to pay dearly. At that very moment, he didn't know how he could avenge all of the victims, but it was most definitely a priority, even if it meant risking his very life.

"Shawn," Eva called out, stopping in her tracks. She unstrapped her rifle and aimed a tree several feet away. The shot hit the spot, and blood spurted all around. The creature came easily into view, the mannequin. Pieces of its pain-stricken face lay near the twitching body.

"We need to be more careful," she added.

"Wait, what's that?" Shawn said, looking at a distance.

A huge castle stood ominously, grayish clouds hovering near the very top. Without further answering him, Eva kept going, slowing to a fast-paced walk. He continued along with her, noticing a patch of fog thickening, reminding him of the horrible cave he ventured through. Eventually, they reached the back-side of the enormous castle, silence except for the whistling wind creating a most unsettling environment.

"The others are here?" he asked. "I hope they can last long enough for us to catch up."

There was a small bridge connecting a primitive, half-dried moat. It was so dark, only the occasional glimmer of water could be seen below. When they advanced to back entrance, Shawn could not help but marvel at the looming structure.

"This is an ancient castle protected by the people here, or at least it was," Eva pointed out. "Don't mistaken this for that tourist site, Bran Castle. This has been unrefined for ages, and hasn't been touched much. Actually, I believe it several looters tried to find anything of value around here, but were never seen again. They supposedly became the first 'victims'."

"Well, wasn't your clan originally from around this place?" Shawn asked while taking in the area.

"All of us came from different backgrounds. We kind of became wayfarers, wandering the world as hired hands and assassins. When a certain man was still our leader, we were known as the famous 'Nether Gate' by the commoners and nobles around here. But when he . . . died, we turned to Hisaru to lead, forming the Zalamel Clan. If you ask me, the life of an assassin isn't much interesting anyway."

"He didn't die, did he?" Shawn added, half expecting an answer and half waiting for her facial expression. She turned and began walking again, but Shawn grabbed her arm lightly.

"How do you expect me to fully trust you when you're always so mysterious about life? What is it with you, are you plotting something . . . with Wesker?"

"Is that what you're thinking?" she questioned back.

"Look, all I'm saying is when we get inside, don't leave my side, understood? At some point, I want to hear what _whole_ story is about."

She gave him sort of a nod, just looking down. They continued toward a giant wooden door. The castle itself was like straight from a fairy tale, easily hundreds of feet up high. When he pushed open the door, he took notice of the torches still lit inside. Had his team actually lit up the halls? It almost seemed as if there were others dwelling within.

"Follow me," Eva commanded, going into a sprint.

"Hey, hold on," he said in response. He caught up to her, but nearly tripped as saw as much as heard the gunfire. Moments later, as Shawn and Eva looked around in shock, the castle began to tremble, dust and small debris crumbling down to their feet.

"What the hell is . . . wait, what Hisaru said!" Shawn couldn't believe it. As he neared the front, he climbed up a huge flight of stone stairs, Eva gaining behind him. When he reached the main hall, he saw them, his comrades, fighting legions of vampire monsters, all holding shields and bow guns and clubs, slaughtering and fighting like a true war right out of a morbid action movie. Eva broke him out of his instant of shock, and he was entering the fray, firing with his shotgun as quickly as he could.

"Shawn! You're alive!" shouted a fellow comrade.

"Dwayne," Shawn said, recognizing his dark skin and huge build right away, "lets send them to hell!"

"Right on!"

The battle ensued for a good twenty minutes, the horde of monsters falling quickly with the fire power they held. They used up most of their grenades, but the main hall was clear. The team regrouped, nearly all wiped out.

"Shawn," began one of the surviving squad leaders, "it's great to know that you're all in one piece. But, I'm sure either Eva . . . or Jim, has told you of our predicaments with the escape plan."

"Hey, Mueller, there's no way I'm gonna quit now! So even if they aren't coming, I'm prepared to fight to the end."

"But Shawn . . ." Mueller paused briefly. "The government, they're all against us coming out of this alive. You see, we were merely sacrificial lambs in all of this. They're literally preventing any means for our escape. Still wanna fight to the end?"

Shawn felt surges of many different feelings course through him, not allowing him to say even a word. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. Everyone just stood there, looking grim. He didn't even know what to think.

"I know, we felt the same, Shawn. But, we have to way to get out. For whatever the big reason is, the U.S. Congress AND the President himself are on us, making sure everything remains as . . . planned. And that Wesker deal? I wouldn't be surprised if he made the whole thing up!" Shawn's eyes widened, that name tying so many knots in his gut.

". . . w-wait! But he is involved . . . ! He has a part, a major part in all of this! That must mean . . ."

"Just what are you getting at?" Mueller asked.

Just after, the large double-doors in the front of the main hall burst into pieces, a single man entering with a bazooka.

"Hisaru!" Eva said nearly under her breathe.

"So, have you told them yet, Eva?" were his first words. The others held their guns at him, watching his movements and listening to his babbling. "Guess not, so I'll tell them the _good_ news! In a matter of time, all of you shall give birth to wonderful children! _My_ children! Didn't know that? Aw, Eva! Keeping our guests in the dark this long is very rude! Alucard will be most displeased with you."

Every agent began to look around worriedly, suddenly feeling true fear enter through their limbs and veins and theirs hearts.

"Ha! Our little pet on the highest floor of this castle sprays our microscopic brethren to every corner of this very foundation. Even though it dissipates, our friend sprays once every hour or so. Regardless, you'll all die great and honorable deaths."

His gaze fell on Shawn, and even as he did, he knew why. Shawn was now the only one who possibly wasn't infected.

A L U C A R D

The time was upon them. Everything went smoothly, oh so smoothly. Wesker was busy with his own problems, and the wretched American agents were all going to contribute to his cause by spawning more loyal subjects. Alucard was more than thrilled. All those years of planning, of carefully trying not to rule out other outside possibilities, it was a dream come true! He could rest easily if he could revive his master the way he had planned it.

"Yes, now you shall rise!"

The city setting wasn't at all what he expected, but it was currently the closest safe spot for him to perform the ritual. The majority of his cohorts were all preparing the path, just in case anybody unwanted happened to wander too close; he couldn't have anybody defile his sacred ceremony.

In the center of the street, dozens of sacrificial bodies complete with their blood lay sprawled in a single pile. Right in front was the elegant, beautiful coffin of his long-asleep ancestor, his master, Him . . .

"Only legend? Pathetic humans . . . how we can fool you so! We shall show you how a mere 'legend' shall rule all lands! And our hidden group shall come forth from the shadows from wence they hid. We shall restrain all!"

The coffin lid was removed by several of his clan members, the body within bringing shivers up and down his unnatural spine. With his rite knife, which contained pure strains of the living parasite, he slit his left wrist, relishing every second of the moment. His blood dripped thickly onto the body.

The body began to almost instantaneously moisten, the outer crust skin peeling off in chunks. One devilish wing lifted from the coffin, the shrill of a demon born again echoing miles away.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The trip to this "Dragon Den" had been a silent one. Sam, Cliff, and Drake didn't say a word as the tunnel extended further into God-knows-where. Nonetheless, Sam could easily tell that Cliff felt very uneasy about the event that occurred with Drake and those reptilian gorilla creatures. She got off to thinking and eventually came up with the most logical answer: he was harboring whatever disease made people into vampires of zombies. However, she had seen plenty of "infected" people to know that they often did _not_ exhibit features like the ones he portrayed. What if he couldn't control it? Would they be his next victims? Sam was beyond terrified.

The two were following Drake, their heads low, yet vigilant all the same. There were at least a half dozen doors they had to skip, but if they all had bio monsters inside, it would be best to not even bother; they were low on ammo, but even the idea of looking for weapons and ammunition seemed like instant suicide.

The three stopped in mid stride, gazing at the enormous door with the creepy stone gargoyle set on the front. Its eyes were lit red by some kind of molten substance. Two huge, flickering torches greeted them on each side of the narrow hall, creating sort of an omen.

"How do you open this?" Sam asked softly and not to anyone specifically. "There's no handle or anything . . ."

"We have to push this thing," replied Drake, his voice slightly wavering. He met eyes with Sam, and she noticed his were reddened and filled with suffering, making her feel very emotional. She turned away and closed her eyes, knowing deep down that he knew what was happening.

Cliff began pushing first, the stone relief barely budging. Drake joined in, struggling to get the thing to even stir.

"Wait a minute," Sam interrupted them, hitting a well-hidden and hardly used switch on the wall. The gargoyle began to descend, the stone tile floor nearest to it shifting downward. With a mechanical cranking sound, the relief finally hit the bottom with a loud crash, followed by nervous silence.

The first to enter was Cliff, examining the next room as quickly as he could; it appeared to be some kind of leisure room. On the opposite side of the relief was the frame of what would have been a false fireplace. Apparently, Umbrella, or whatever organization owned the place, was quite fond of spy gizmos and other annoyances. Sam wasn't. There was only one door leading out, and this one was quite elegant, bearing an inscription in Romanian. Finally feeling useful, Sam headed over to it first, ignoring the other lavish items scattered throughout the room- only to be disrupted by Cliff's call.

"Hey, you both better look at this."

Sam and Drake walked over to the windows where Cliff stood, wondering what he was so worried about. The sight made Sam feel despair drip out of every pore on her body. An army of those things from the city were making their way to the front of the building-

_-and this building is a goddamn castle! Where the hell are we!_

The horde of vampires stormed the front, causing ear-shattering, echoing pounding sounds throughout the entire castle. Soon after, there were gunshots, but not just ordinary gunshots. They were fully automatic! Were the agents here as well? With that finally inspiring her, Sam stared at the others with glittering eyes, the tiny flame of hope kindling once more.

"They're here . . . the agents are here! We might be saved!"

Cliff's eyes widened suddenly. "So, my brother's most likely here . . . and alive!" he shouted. Drake remained silent.

"D-Drake? Are you alright?" Sam asked, even though she didn't even have to ask. He was getting pale, his hands shaky.

"I'm fine. Don't worry," he let out softly.

"Sam, I can't make out these words," Cliff stated after hurrying over to the inscription, "you have to decipher it. You're the only one who can, Ms. Interpreter!"

Hesitating, Sam ran over to it and started reading, pushing her unruly hair back to view it much easier. There was a miniature demon depiction on the door's design above the etched writing, a small slit where the mouth should be. The writing said . . .

_-Give me a taste of the blood of a human. Then, give me a taste of the blood of a defect. At last, give me a taste of the blood of a masterpiece, and my bloodlust shall be quenched._

After reading the cryptic inscription out loud, Sam paused and looked at the others anxiously. Time was slowly crawling to minutes, desperation taking over.

"What does it mean?" she asked, the gunfire getting much more intense.

"Don't look at me!" Cliff said nervously.

_Wait, a defect?_

The only defects that weren't human Sam could think of were those vampire things. Did they need to retrieve an actual blood sample?

"Here," called out Drake, who had picked up several things from one of the room's many shelves, across from the pool table. "These should clear things up a bit."

He handed Sam three small wooden figures resembling chess pieces. His hands were feverishly hot, startling her before looking at the items.

One was blood-red, with several chemical formulas etched on. Also was etched the word, "Researcher". The second was purple, more etchings on its side. The word, "Darkside" was written on it. The last one was dark green with the word "Tyrant" inscribed on it. Sam and Cliff looked at each other, the tiny objects clearing up nothing. All Sam knew was that a researcher was human, unless they meant the infected ones . . .

"What are we supposed to do now?" Cliff said with frustration as the castle shook from the gun fight several rooms over.

"Give me," Drake said, taking them from Sam's hand. He placed the red one into the slit, the wooden piece falling inside with a muted tick. He then threw in the green one and finally, the purple one.

"How did you . . ."

"Let's go," he broke Cliff off, opening the now unlocked door and hurrying inside. Sam and Cliff exchanged bewildered looks and followed after him-

-and in crashed a monster most heinous. He, _it_, appeared like some mutated man, easily seven to eight feet in height. He was nude, yet looked like layers of skin were clothing its unnatural body. There were many scars all over its grayish body, causing Sam to quiver in fright, knowing this thing wasn't particularly new at killing. However, its greatest distinction was its razor-sharp nails on every finger of its hands. It came from the ceiling, its elongated nails flicking off the dust and stone on its muscular and abnormal body.

"_Darkside_," Drake muttered, raising his weapon shakily. Sam didn't know what was going on, but all that mattered was that everything they'd gone through would be for nothing if that impossible monstrosity got to them.

S H A W N

The fervent survivors who fought bravely for their lives opened fire on the bearer of truth, the shots all connecting and striking at once. Each automatic blast seemed to do nothing to the hulk of a man. And Shawn could see, even as he repeatedly fired, from the holes in his tattered robe that the wounds weren't opening fully, not _bleeding_. Someone tossed a grenade at Hisaru's right, but the unnatural man's eye caught it on time. He was finally provoked, the man charging toward them like a bull. He whipped out a long metallic weapon.

"Get outta the way!" Shawn shouted immediately. "He's got a bazooka!"

The small crowd of surviving agents began to disperse, like mice scurrying from a cat. One blast from the enormous gun, and Shawn saw it happen too quickly, the shot obliterating Dwayne's upper torso.

"No!"

Hisaru's face turned to his, his amused smile widening. Shawn was only several feet away, but he unloaded on him posthaste, the shots catching the arm carrying the bazooka. The hit should have blown his limb from its socket, yet he still stood in one piece! It couldn't have been the parasite doing that.

The agents, although barely in cohesion, fired endlessly. Perhaps they all realized their grim fate. With that much more hate for the bastard, Shawn decided he wouldn't simply give up either. He moved behind a stone pillar, easily thick enough for protection. Surely enough, a grenade round shook the pillar that was his temporary shield, the chunk of stone resisting.

Shawn heard some more blasts and, sadly, more shouts of agony; he was mowing them down, time was running short before they'd all die.

Something moved from nearby, something soft and mushy. There were sickening snapping noises, like bone splintering partially. When Shawn turned to his right, he saw the remains of Dwayne, something rising from somewhere in the gory mess. A vampire embryo stood up, screeching and instantly rushing for blood. Shawn rushed after it, then stopped in his tracks as he saw more and more bursting out of chests, from the bodies of his friends, his fellow comrades.

He fell to his knees, shocked and disoriented, feeling like all of it was impossible. Hisaru stood behind a nearby pillar, taking aim at the stunned agent.

"I got you now, filthy American," he muttered in a schadenfreude most devilish. Then, from behind came a calm voice.

"Karma sure is a bitch."

There was a shot fired, startling Shawn to his feet again. But by the time he turned and aimed, there was an explosion so swift, he nearly lost his balance. From the shadows, Eva came out, toting her sniper rifle. She wore the same unreadable expression on her enigmatic face, of both mirth and solemn grief. It didn't make sense. None of it did, not her, not the man laying on the ground scorched.

Hidden in the cover of darkness, the embryos' erratic breathing could be heard, his senses going on high alert. Eva was approaching, not saying a word. For some reason, he became almost as wary of Eva as he was of the vampires. He backed away slightly. Holding up his weapon.

"Tell me, did you have any part in all this!" he said, his shotgun pointed squarely at her.

". . . Shawn, if I wanted to kill you, you would've been dead a long time ago, as would your friends. However, I did not. Don't let that fool throw you off."

Hisaru was a smoldering body on the ground. His weapon, too, was blown to shit, sadly. That must've been what Eva struck.

"You're not making any sense. You don't want to kill us, yet you're still associated with these ass-wipes! And there's Wesker . . ."

"What about Wesker?"

There was a beeping noise on Eva's belt, so faint, that Shawn actually thought he was hearing things. Eva only smiled, not a single emotion showing.

"Well? Aren't you going to answer it!" Shawn spat angrily.

"Hmph, fine, if this is what you want." Eva hit a switch somewhere on her belt.

"Torque," came a collective male voice, "has he been eliminated?" Shawn's eyes narrowed, not sure of how to react.

". . . yes," she simply answered.

"Good. Now head to the city further out west, just a short ways down. That will be your last chance at retrieving the true Parasite X. There'll be a chopper waiting at beacon 4-2-21. Be quick about it. Over and out."

"That was Wesker . . . wasn't it?" Shawn's tone was weak, but he could tell Eva saw the anguish and rage in his every feature.

"If I told you sooner, it would have hindered our partnership, and our chance at survival. Besides, Shawn, I like you. I didn't want to have to kill you."

"You betrayed me, Eva! All of this death could have been prevented! And for what! A damn parasite that's worth shit!"

"Do not talk of things which you know nothing of! You have no idea what I had to endure!"

Eva dropped her weapon to the ground. She began to show only the slightest of emotions, but Shawn was surprised nevertheless.

"Shawn, I didn't lie to you about my past. I was a part of Nether Gate, and I was an assassin. But, ever since Hisaru became affiliated with a strange man, he changed. It was that damn bug, the parasite. He used a strange knife to administer it into select few. I was one of them. We would be granted great power and an elongated life span. I had no choice in the matter! I was becoming one of them . . . until I met Wesker."

Shawn felt many urges at the moment; he felt like blasting her away for sacrificing his friends, like embracing her to comfort a pitiful soul, even to run, run away from everything. He was confused. He just stood there, his face unchanged.

"After he isolated me, he managed to create a sort of medication that would prevent the parasite from entering the body to the non-infected. For those who were infected already, it would only suppress it for a certain amount of time. I have to constantly take them, or I'll . . ." She paused briefly.

"So, you feel you owe him _this_? God knows what goddamn horrors he'll do with it!"

"I know, but it's too late; he's already begun." There was another brief pause.

"Shawn, you're not infected. Some time after you fell into the river, I evaded Hisaru, who I had pretended to have connections to. It so happened that during my travels meanwhile, I found you unconscious by the river's edge. I administered the medication in your body before any infection could take place."

"Eva . . ."

"You don't have to worry. You'll be safe from it for at least a week. Leave this place and do not return to your home in the U.S., Shawn."

"W-What?"

With those words, Eva turned and headed toward the two-story-tall doorway at the front. She was going to go through with what Wesker had told her!

"Eva, wait!" She interrupted him, taking one last glance at him.

"There's an anonymous helicopter circling the area a little bit off this path. Keep going until you reach the city limits. I believe its still there. Hurry while you can. At least one of us can enjoy the rest of their life." Eva rushed over to the drawbridge and jumped, simultaneously taking out a strange gun. It released a hook, similar to those in spy movies, and attached itself to something. In a split second, she ascended into the sky.

Shawn let out a sigh. He picked up her rifle and noticed the weapon was still practically full, at least fourteen shots left. It must have been one-of-a-kind, probably given to her by Wesker himself. There was a small bag near it, too. A cache of ammo for the Uzi, and a gun similar to the one she used to escape.

"Shit!"

His heart nearly skipped a beat when he noticed Hisaru's body up and rushing at him at full speed. Shawn somersaulted to his left, and Hisaru ran _through_ the pillar behind him. He damned himself for strapping away the shotgun; the sniper rifle was useless at this range.

_Wait, she _did_ fire at close range . . . _

Shawn waited for the living bulldozer to rush at him again, but after the debris from the stone pillar cleared he was nowhere in sight. There was a loud tremor behind him, and just as he turned around, Hisaru grabbed hold of his neck, cutting off his circulation and air. Hisaru still wore a smile. His robe was gone, revealing horribly pale, abnormal muscles. Charred and scarred all over, his only intention at that moment was his death alone.

Shawn's face began to turn red. However, his hands managed to reach the small lever on the rifle he still held onto tightly. He quickly pressed and held the trigger, spraying Hisaru with piercing rifle ammo. The trail of bullets came upward and pelted him in his face, his grip suddenly loosening. He let out a stifled moan of pain.

_Have to get loose . . ._

From his side pack, he slipped out his knife, thrusted it into his wrist and twisted. Shawn was freed from the monster's grasp, struggling to breathe in air. Hisaru began throwing punches freely, punching holes into other pillars and stone walls, barely missing him by inches. After a short while, his eyes repaired, the tissue in his face back to its original state. As this was happening, Shawn hurried outside near the entrance doorway. He took hold of the device that raised the drawbridge, spinning the crank as fast as his arms could turn. Hisaru's attention shifted immediately on him, the fixation to kill him too great to ignore.

"That's right, you dumb _shit_, over this way!" he muttered. Shawn had just finished the turning when his rock-solid fists pounded the crank device straight into the moat. In the meantime, Shawn looked over to the other side, at the forest just at the moat's edge. His heart pounding and his body incredibly tense, he took out the hookshot Eva left him and aimed at the closest and largest tree on the other side. Hisaru turned to his direction, his face no longer filled with wild glee, but macabre lust for death. He fired, the hooked end quickly piercing through the sturdy tree. As he let go of the trigger, Shawn was flying directly across, at the same time fearing that he'd fly straight into the tree in front of him. At the last moment he let go of the gun, crash landing onto safe grounds on the other side.

Despite the sharp pain in his left shoulder, Shawn got right back up, no longer feeling pain anywhere. Hisaru was _climbing _the lifted drawbridge. He reached the tip of the bridge, getting ready to jump down. Shawn quickly took aim.

_If I miss these shots, I'm most likely dead._

He aimed the sniper rifle not at Hisaru, but at the chains holding the bridge up. He finished blasting the last one just as Hisaru landed onto the edge of ground. When he turned around, the last thing the mindless monster could see was the gigantic bridge closing down on him. The smashed body was a mishmash of flesh and odd organs, all lightly coated in abnormal blood and beyond repair.

After a moment of extreme panting, Shawn let out one final sigh of relief. It all happened so quick, and it was more or less all luck. He turned toward the path leading into the forest. He needed to make a choice.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Time was running out. Not only were they low on ammo, but the creature appeared to be oblivious to nine millimeter gunfire. It was definitely toying with them, taking its sweet time getting in close.

_Shit, it's gonna kill us if it gets any closer, and damn, I need some more friggin fire power!_

It wasn't until then that Sam noticed Drake's aim was getting poorer by the second. She estimated she had about twelve shots left, including a partial clip she saved in her pocket. Cliff started backing away, no longer firing; he must've just run out, she thought.

The monster suddenly rushed, charging at Drake first. With a tremendous back-hand smack, he went flying several feet away from the other two, the monster closing its distance between its prey. Its empty eyes turned to Sam, and she could feel the true ominous dread of death surrounding her, that impending surge overwhelming her, taking hold of her trembling limbs.

"Hey! Over here, Powder!"

It was Cliff shouting to the beast, distracting it from its gaze. It began taking slow strides toward Cliff, repairing its minor abrasions all the while. Broken out of her shock, Sam desperately surveyed the area for anything she could use, simultaneously realizing that the gunfire nearby had ceased, and that the thundering footsteps were becoming faster and much more intense. She could hear the terrifying sounds of its metal-like nails sliding across the stone wall.

"Goddamn it, he won't last long by himself . . ."

After straying not too far from where the monster was "hunting", Sam came across a body, one of an agent, apparently. It was a most depressing sign, yet, for the moment, it hardly mattered. There was a magnum near his hand, the gun sitting there like assistance from God. She knew smack about guns, but she could at least tell the gun was a semi-automatic, not one of those Colt Python revolver magnums. She didn't know, couldn't even tell if it was loaded, but it was her only hope. Again, she heard the monster charging. Soon after, there was a strangled gasp from somewhere nearby.

"Cliff!"

Shouting out to him was a bit too late, the teenage boy falling against the wall, a line of blood streaked across his slightly scraggy chest. His head was down against his chest, making it hard to tell if it was a deathblow. But the monster was starting toward her with great thunderous leaps, not caring if Cliff was alive or not. Sam took aim and blasted away, the first shot taking a chunk of its jaw out, even reaching parts of its neck. The second hit it straight in the chest, below its sternum. The creature was slowed from the sheer force of the massive blast. However, Sam gasped, suddenly shaking even more as the creature's wounds began to heal at an unnatural rate, like from a sci-fi flick.

"This can't be happening, no!"

She took one last surveillance of the area, then jolted; Cliff was out and Drake had been nowhere in sight. With the brute at least halted, Sam rushed down the hallway, passing the rotting corpse of the agent, and eventually hitting a stairway leading up. The creature was tearing through walls, creating its own path toward her while she struggled door to door. She seemed to enter the main hall, the room as wide and open as a quarter of a football stadium. Pillars were all over the place, decorating the entrance, which was blown right open. More dead bodies were strewn about, their chests all decimated.

BOOM, CRASH!

Just a second after noticing the horror before her, the monster came crashing through, sparing her not a moment to catch her breathe. However, its target was no longer her. It trained its cold eyes on something scurrying behind the pillars. When the "thing" scurried behind a farther stone pillar, Sam took notice; it was a boy. He wasn't that tall, with a small build resembling Cliff. . .

_And it's gonna kill him, it's gonna kill the boy! Go!_

She began firing again, the shots going high; it was too far for her to take an accurate shot. She needed to get the kid closer to her.

"Hey, over her-,"

She was immediately cut off, several vampire creatures surrounding her completely. They stared at her with beady, wet eyes, dripping with sinewy slime all over. They must have all been fresh from the bodies. There wasn't enough time to fend off the blood-suckers and distract the giant. Quite simply, they were done for.

D R A K E

It took him awhile to even get back up, his head wheeling from the attack and the infection. It would only be a matter of time. He sure as hell wasn't counting on living this long, but it appeared he wasn't going to deal with chest-popping vampires. He had something else wrong with him.

Drake hurried over, his head pounding from the great crashing sounds the monster was making. It was no longer in the same room. Seconds later, he noticed Cliff sitting against the stone wall, his chest all bloodied. He staggered toward the defeated boy and saw there wasn't much of a blood trail for that big a wound; he assumed he was dead already. The poor boy would never get to see his little brother again. Yet, all the same he admired the young man for his courage. Drake was the same, striving for the truth, but now. . .

Drake's moment of reverence was disrupted by a great longing for blood, the thirst so strong, he felt like taking a bite out of the dead boy, as if he were a ripe fruit. Resisting the abominable urge, he paused at the sound of shrieks somewhere close by.

_If I don't do something, I'll lose her, too. Sam, if there were any people who deserved to live, it would definitely be you and Cliff . . ._

Feeling a strange mixture of emotions, he charged down the torch-lit hallways, taking shortcuts the monster had probably made. Part of him was empowered by his desire to save Sam, another by a morbid need for something else. He jumped over stone debris like they were pebbles, gaining an unnatural stamina that both thrilled him and terrified him at the same time. He felt a need to _kill._

S H A W N

Shawn could hear the extremely faint hum of the helicopter Eva described. The thought that it would all be over brought a chill up his spine. However, he made his choice. He decided to take the route leading into the city. He felt a most unusual need to be near Eva at that moment. It made him feel guilty, his thoughts dwelling back to Constance, however, he had a feeling that if he let Eva go, she'd run into more trouble; retrieving anything from those cultists meant certain death. Besides that, he needed to know what she meant about "not going home" in the U.S. What could she possibly mean?

_Don't worry, Constance, I'm coming back for you no matter what._

With a horrible twisting knot in his gut, Shawn continued down the unusually safe and quiet forest, the path apparently the one that would lead him into whatever city Eva was heading to. There were several piles of leaves in the way, seeming quite conspicuous in the dirt pathway. Shawn slowed down, not feeling okay about crossing. He took aim with his rifle, making sure the path ahead wasn't an ambush; he knew the myriad numbers those vampire things could take up.

Shawn took a large piece of branch from the ground and brushed some leaves off one of the piles. The branch slipped inside, an audible clanking sound coming from below. From what he could see, there was a cleverly hidden pit with many thin, long stone spikes designed for impaling, a most grueling death. Shivering slightly, he slowly continued, avoiding the majority of the leafy piles around him.

Something screeched and swooped down near his face, causing him to lose balance and fall. He felt the ground sink a bit, and he panicked, falling sideways into what he guessed was one those pits. He hung on the edge with all his might, the muddy border making his fingers slowly slip down.

_NO! I won't die here-_

With one hand, he took hold of the hook gun on his belt, aiming up while trying to maintain a decent grip with one single hand. He pressed the trigger, the hook finding something to pierce. Shawn let go of the trigger, the grappling mechanism pulling up out of the hole of death. He landed down near a tree, no longer in peril, but several vampires came swooping down, barely disappointed. They screamed out for blood as they dive-bombed toward him. Shawn dropped the rifle and took out his Uzi, loading them and firing as soon as he could. They fell with no problem, their wings too delicate to withstand the many bullets. Yet, the creatures landed as if half expecting it. They raced toward him, nearly crawling on all four. He obliterated the grounded ones with ease, each kill making feel only a little better for the deaths of his agent sacrifices.

Shawn jogged on forward, wary of any slight change in the environment. He reached a part in the path where several trees got in the way. Attached from these trees were what appeared to be barbed wire. He shook his head at their feeble attempts to stop him.

He heard the shouts of several vampire creatures, only they weren't those scrawny, flying vampires or their human-like hosts. They were just as pale, yet they were much more muscular, their faces horribly distorted; their eyes and nostrils were incredibly tiny, their mouth wide with teeth protruding and covering the majority of the face. There were six of them, all holding some kind of axe or knife. The mutants leaped over the barb wire with little effort, startling him into shooting. He began spraying the closest with bullets, each impact punching a ragged hole into its body. By the next seconds, the Uzi had blasted deep into the monster's chest, revealing a mess of stringy arteries and veins that took up most of its grotesque chest.

One of the vampires took a wide swing at him with its knife, nearly slicing off on his right arm. He let out a quick yell of pain, exciting the others into attacking. Shawn back-flipped far enough to sidestep the incoming attack. As he stood back up, managed to swipe back his rifle which he took careful aim with. One single shot and the bullet tore through the nearest's chest, the creature crying out sharply, inhumanely as it fell face down. Letting the rifle go for the time being, he unstrapped his shotgun and targeted the small crowd of fervent vampires, and-

BANG . . . BANG!

The vampire "people" hit the ground faster than the echoing of the blast could stop. Those may have been the result of extended growth or mutation, but they still fell the same way as their counterparts.

Toting his rifle, Shawn carefully crawled beneath the barb wire laced around the nearby trees, continuing down the road, his heart pounding in anticipation of the creatures. They were obviously prepared for his visit.

He lunged forward upon hearing sudden _swish_ sounds. After landing behind a tree he looked behind and noticed the arrows in the ground, head first. Several more came flying at him, all striking the tree's trunk. He took out his sniper rifle, listening for any more sounds. He could hear them in the cover of several shrubs, reloading their bow guns. In response, he quickly stuck out his upper torso, wincing as his bloody arm took the weight of the weapon. His teeth clenched tightly, he took aim and fired once, twice. He heard the heavy _thud_ of something big hitting the ground; one down. He could easily hear the rustling of his hunters' movements. If his senses were correct, they were near his left side. When he turned one of the monsters was even closer than expected.

"Oh, shit!"

He deliberately fell down, the arrow missing him by a miracle. He took aim from the ground, the tall grass making things difficult for him, and struck its leg, the bullet completely obliterating its limb. The creature staggered, allowing a clear shot directly into its chest. At the blast of its chest, the creature's lumbering partner behind had staggered in surprise. PANG, PANG, PSHH! They were all taken out.

"Very interesting," came a voice from somewhere off in the distance. Shawn stood up, his face reddened from his close encounters. A further ways down, a woman stood, two more "attendants" with bow guns at their side guarding her mindlessly. Her clothes and hair were all black, yet beautiful for a monster. Her face was a wonder, her eyes a hypnotic pair of feminine rawness. Her tight sleeveless shirt revealed her pale, slim body, and her skirt portrayed her perfectly smooth legs. She merely stood there, her eyes directly connecting his, making him feel uneasy.

"You've done well . . . human." Her accent was seemed quite foreign, most likely a resident of this country. But by the way she referred him, that no longer mattered.

"Who're you?" Shawn asked, keeping his rifle on automatic mode, targeting her.

"My name is Effeminette. You are Shawn, correct?"

". . ."

"I was told to slaughter you in the name of Vlad. My master says you pose a big threat to Him. You must be exterminated."

". . . Vlad?" Shawn became startled at the name. In the back of his mind, he knew that name. "Wait a minute, are you referring to _the_ Dracula!"

The lady's attendants seemed to stir at the remark, aiming their guns at him with a gurgling growl. Effeminette put one delicate hand up, halting the brain-dead guards. She smiled back Shawn, one he could tell was not out of amusement.

"Hmm, yes. It appeared many humans referred to Him by that title in the past. 'Count Dracula', wasn't it?" She placed one hand beneath her chin, looking lost in thought. "Perhaps you already took notice, but there are a number of us who utilized this gift to its fullest potential. Vlad has mastered that potential. A long time ago, when the gift was at its peak, Vlad dreamed of gathering his scattered brethren together. Even His mild presence united those nearby under his liege. However, it was his son, a non-carrier, who slew him after realizing his infection. But even he succumbed to the numbing pleasure released upon his momentary death."

The woman seemed almost saddened as she spoke. Shawn's hands were quivering with much anticipation, his finger readied at the trigger.

"Luckily, a decade after, Vlad's position was taken over. Alucard, Vlad's son and possibly the inspirer of the wretched 'Dracula' cliche, had become the less mighty clan leader. Today shall be the day of reckoning, when He will rise once more and fulfill his final fantasy; a world united under desire and leadership worthy of being called a race! The paradise among all paradises!"

At the moment, the two guardians opened fire. Shawn, who had anxiously awaited the attack, dove to his left, behind one of the many trees in the area. He took a quick glance at the crazy lady and noticed her attendants had already split up to look for him. Several more of them carrying axes and scourges came from somewhere behind.

"Shit!" he muttered. They must've been waiting for him there, probably expecting this occasion to end up like some kind of a rite or offering to this "Vlad". He wanted to take down the creepy female leader first, but he needed to concentrate on the nearest grunts. It was going to be hell.

S A M A N T H A

There was no way in hell she could take them all out and save the boy on time. The vampires were circling her, as if deciding how to kill her. But she couldn't stop thinking about the kid. Why did the monster go after him? Sam held the gun tightly and fired at the one closest to the stairway. It flew nearly ten feet away, the body decimated. And in that instant, she dashed for the stairs, stopping, turning around to aim at the others who were already hot on her trail. While no longer surrounded, she focused on picking them off one by one. The sounds of stone crashing below echoed in ear as she opened fire, noting her that the boy wouldn't, couldn't last much longer against the monstrous butcher.

Sweat trickled down her face as two more vampires charged at her. Barely needing to aim, the blasts of the magnum tore the bastards apart. However, the dry _click_ of the gun seconds later sent her mind in a state of panic.

_I'm out, no not now!_

-and suddenly as one of the creatures dove for her blood, something from behind leapt forward, knocking away the thing. She couldn't believe her eyes when she saw Drake fighting back, ripping their sickly pale, thin limbs apart. She past the gruesome scene in an instant and toward where the boy was, not taking into account that she was out of magnum bullets. He was no longer in sight, but the monster was, its head turning to face her.

She backed away, looking behind her as Drake literally brutalized the retreating little shits. And the monster jumped over her, clawing at the ceiling and landing down to face Drake.

"Drake, watch out!" she yelled without knowing if he even could understand her any longer. Apparently, he heard her, turning around and catching the monsters wide swing. The two wrestled for control, somehow equal in power. Drake's eyes shone red, as if he was no longer human. Sam then turned to the spot in which the kid was last. And upon closer inspection, she found a big enough hole where he could've escaped through.

"Upstairs . . ."

She turned around and took notice of the battle, the two evenly matched. She mentally wished that she wouldn't have to come back to see the outcome, then rushed up the stairs in pursuit of the boy.

The halls were a mess, all broken into and in shambles. She wondered how an old, weathered castle could last so long after the damages the monster caused. She then suddenly realized Drake left Cliff alone. Was he . . . dead? Her jog became a sprint, oblivious to the few bodies that had already began to decay. At the end of the hall, where the monster had plunged down to kill them, was the boy . . . and Cliff, still against the wall.

"C-Cliff?" she ran toward the two. The boy had already realized he was dead, the tears streaming down his rosy cheeks.

"Cliff! Cliff, no! You promised!" the boy sobbed. Sam approached him slowly, trying to maintain her own composure.

"He . . . wanted to find you so badly. He tried his best, but he ended up being a real hero anyway . . ."

"Who're you?" the boy asked in a whimpering tone, his voice still childish. He couldn't have been any older than twelve or thirteen. She saw Cliff's face on his, the resemblance very depressing.

"My name is Samantha. We tried escaping together. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be alive right now." Sam tried a smile, the boy's face still not changing. "I know this probably hurts more than anything in the world, but we really need to leave now. Please, it's what your brother wanted all along."

"I'll never let Cliff's death . . . be for nothing," he said in a low tone.

"You're very strong, like your brother. Now let's go."

She took the boy's hand and led him back down the hall. Unfortunately, the only way out would have to be through that room where Drake was at. They'd have to make a run for it and hope for the best. Sam paused, took a deep breath, and knelt down in front of the boy. Choosing the words carefully, she smiled brightly at him.

"Okay, we're going upstairs now. There may be monsters there, but don't worry. I'll be right by your side. We're going to go straight out the front gate. Whatever you do don't look back, alright?"

The boy nodded, his face still red from crying so much. She stood back up and exhaled.

"By the way, sweetie, what's your name?"

"It's Devon," he replied, sounding a little bit more serene.

"Okay, Devon, let's get the hell out of this place."

The two made their way up the stairway, Devon's face appearing more frightened. Sam herself was feeling the adrenaline pump through her once more.

_This is it. It'll now be just you and the boy._

With that mental thought biting at her, she accepted the fact and continued. When they reached the enormous hallway, all that remained were broken pillars and chunks of flesh and stringy things Sam couldn't quite recognize. Feeling quite nauseated by the scene and the adrenaline rush, her hazy vision caught view of Drake, laying against the wall.

"Aren't we gonna run?" Devon asked worriedly.

"He's still alive!" She grabbed Devon's hand and ran toward him, her hope for him rising again for some inexplicable reason.

"Wait over here," she told Devon, who was a few feet away from Drake. She walked on toward him, his face sweaty and full of cuts. He was covered in cuts and puncture wounds, yet he did not bleed much. His eyes opened slowly as she drew nearer. They were normal again.

"Drake?" she called out faintly.

"Ah, Sam, you're still alive. I guess my wish came true."

"Drake . . ."

She crouched down next to him, grabbing hold of his hand. They were colder than before.

"Sam, I wanted to tell you and Cliff this many times before, but it seemed I never had the right opportunity to explain it in one shot."

"Explain? What are you saying?"

"Sam, when I first met you, I had already been here for months . . . alone. I needed an immediate story to tell you so your suspicion wouldn't arise. I didn't know who you were. I never had a wife . . . or kid. I'm an agent, from the U.S."

His breathing was still steady, surprisingly. Sam had a faint feeling that he would survive. If it was a good thing or a bad thing, she did not know.

"Ever since a certain moment, the President . . . and the majority of his subordinates . . . even the Congress, were all involved in shady activities. After awhile of meeting with various enigmatic people and using the F.B.I for reasons unknown, several members of the bureau themselves decided to spy. Eventually, we've secretly made our own group our leader dubbed, the 'Independent Observers of Political Transgressing', or 'I.O.P.T.'. Most consisted of members of the government itself who felt they were being left out of major decisions.

"Our diligent investigations has led us to believe that our own government was being manipulated in some way. After our research led us here, we discovered that Wesker was using another parasite to control them somehow. My group was being slaughtered one by one by both the vampires and Wesker's hunters. We didn't stand a chance. It wasn't long before I ended up alone and found you. I'm so sorry I couldn't tell you sooner. I couldn't risk the chance of you being some Umbrella spy."

"Don't be, you were being faithful to your country. But, you mentioned Umbrella. Aren't they . . ."

"Take this," he said, handing her several folded sheets of paper. On one corner, it had I.O.P.T. written on it. "It should answer all your questions. There's a checkpoint out west of here. Go there and wait. There's a chopper constantly searching the area. My people have a base of operations not too far from here. Save yourself."

"W-Wait. I'm not leaving you here," her voice faltering. Drake smiled weakly.

"I'm really flattered. But I can't go on."

"But, you're fine now. Your wounds are healing. You're fine!"

"You and I both know why I can't go." He smiled remained. "But I really enjoyed being with you, Sam. Even if it was in this hellhole." Drake let go of her hand and took out a syringe. Some purplish liquid was in it.

". . ."

"Well? You and the boy have a chopper to catch. Hurry up!"

The syringe ready to be injected, she realized he must've known his fate all along. She would be his messenger, to deliver what he has learned in this now evil land to his comrades. He was going to kill himself to save them.

"Drake, I . . . Thank you, for everything."

"Save our country," were his last words to her.

She put away the papers, the info that was his last assignment. She smiled at Devon, who wore a worried smile also.

"Come on, sweetie. We're almost out of here."

Now more than ever, they needed to survive. She left the huge castle and into the morning light, both of them not looking back.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

They kept pouring into the forest, some with guns and others with huge axes. Shawn was slowly getting drained of stamina, constantly moving from tree to tree to gain ground. At that rate, he'd get run off the track. If he got lost in a forest full of those bloodsuckers, he was better off dead.

"See that our visitor fails to reemerge," he heard Effeminette say back at the pathway. "I shall see how Alucard fares."

_Not yet, bitch._

Shawn saw through their meek strategy, their futile attempt to buy time. This Vlad seemed like a great deal to these bastards. He didn't know all the details, but he did know that he didn't want Vlad to make his appearance. After all he faced, who knew. It could've been a werewolf or Frankenstein himself.

There was a loud explosion from somewhere behind his guardian tree. He saw dirt fly past the shielding hulk of a plant, spraying the ground in front of him with burnt soil. Their accuracy seriously sucked. However, if he took a wrong step haphazardly, it would mean death. He listened carefully, listened to the monsters' raspy muttering. It was in English. The creatures probably understood each other regardless of language, which was strange, even for them. He then heard the sizzling sound of whatever explosive it was they were tossing. Just as that occurred, Shawn began to move, keeping very low.

Instead of going deeper into the forest, he backtracked, heading northeast. He managed to pull out his rifle, scrambling for it as quiet as he could while maintaining a vigilant stance. He only had about eight shots left for the sniper. He waited one last time for any sounds of their movements, took careful aim and-

PANG. . .PANG. . .PANG!

Three bodies hit the ground, the rest scurrying about like helpless ants. Another four blasts and those pesky lackeys were disposed of. He took into account that he had one last bullet left. There was an excited laugh from behind, filled with fervent hysteria. Shawn instinctively rolled to his right, missing the blade of the axe by inches. He jumped back up, simultaneously kicking forward his legs, knocking the stunned creature off its feet. With the monster unarmed, Shawn stomped on its face and blasted several assault rifle bullets into its decaying chest. Frantically, yet quietly, he raced to catch up to the vampire mistress. He figured it was time to get even.

When he reached the roadway, he immediately noticed her womanly figure from not too far away. He shifted his weapon to his last bullet for the sniper and took aim at her slender body. He kept his aim higher, waiting until the aiming guide pointed straight at her back, hoping for a one-hit wonder. The blast was muted, the impact ploughing her down to the ground. He looked up, saw her leaning forward and still alive, alive and getting up. The ragged hole in her back wasn't bleeding at all. She turned around, only several feet away. Effeminette smiled deviously.

"I am nothing at all like the petty life-forms you killed back there. Unlike them, I've been given an extra dose of T-virus."

". . . ?"

"Ha, ha, ha. I forgot how _basic_ you humans are. How foolish of me. The T-virus is treated as a mutagenetic toxin, although if used appropriately, can have high potency. In this case, my body may regenerate itself any time the original design is fractured. It is pure perfection. Alucard enhanced all his agents, including himself, with the miracle potion. Now, it's our key to equalizing the world into one whole. Besides, you humans make such excellent hosts."

She began to approach Shawn, who was stunned by her incredible resistance. She was probably as strong as Hisaru, maybe stronger. He started backing away in response, aiming at her despite the realization that she'd still survive his attacks.

"What's wrong? Are you scared?" she teased, a tone of malice in her wickedly beautiful voice. "Oh, wait. I haven't even shown you what I truly look like . . ."

As she continued to walk, her flawless skin began to wither, the layer beneath pulsating wildly. The veins expanded and revealed themselves clearly. Her eyes, although partially hidden by her black silky hair, began to shine an unnatural reddish hue. Her black dress slowly began to wilt away, the temperature of her body increasing with every step she took. The blood in her veins pumped violently. And each beat her rancid heart made augmented the growth, a rapid cellular ontogenesis that struck a motley of fears Shawn didn't understand right away.

When her lips opened, they revealed enlarged teeth, the incisors elongated like the classic vampires. That portrayal was easily matched in ferocity by the appearance of thin, sharp nails one both hands and feet. By then, the veins covering her nude body had literally been whipping out of various orifices. Quite frankly, she no longer resembled a human. The final touch to her transformation was a pair of demonic wings, equally embraced in throbbing veins.

She laughed, her metamorphic head jolting back in delight. Her voice sounded like that of a possessed demon, lacking the eloquence it once had.

"It appears Eva left out a lot of blank spaces, mortal. I shall end your foolish ways and feed off your loathsome corpse!" She flew up high, well-hidden among the canopies above.

"Damn!" muttered Shawn, his senses going berserk. It sounded like she was everywhere at once, the beating of unholy wings bringing chills up his spine. He suddenly broke out into a sprint, racing down the pathway she had blocked before. Surely enough, Effeminette was lunging for him, her fangs exposed and her claws ready to tear him to shreds. He somersaulted forward and slightly to the right, avoiding her altogether, but not by much. In an instant, she was gone again, lost in the greenery of the trees.

He continued running, pushing his body to keep going even above its own limits. He could hear her screech, almost feel her giving chase. Shawn rolled hard on his right shoulder, simultaneously rolling around to face his pursuer. And he opened fire on her, the rapid-fire bullets punching at the slim, agile body so severely, she was immediately stopped in midair. She struggled to fight off the bursts, but lost her balance instead.

Shawn closed in on her as soon as she hit the ground. But she rose again, spinning so fast, he was smacked him onto the ground. She shrieked in disapproval, her body writhing as it began to heal the holes. She took advantage of this momentary distraction and hovered over him as he desperately pushed himself up with strength he never knew he had.

Her feet, which were now taloned claws, clutched his shoulders, stabbing as deep as she could to hold him in place. He squealed in pain, too tired to fight her off.

The next moment, she was carrying him up into the sky, above the treetops. She clawed at him with her hands, hoping to catch an eye or ear, but she ended up tearing his arms up as he shielded himself instead. Each cry of pain he let out was music to her ears, fulfilling her lust.

"I'm sorry to say that I must kill you now, human. Hope you're afraid of heights. Heh, heh, heh."

Her talons release his bleeding shoulders, sending him plummeting down. However, he took out the odd-shaped gun on time, aimed up and shot, the hook shot piercing through her body. She cried out in surprise as his weight tugged at her lightweight body. Even then, Effeminette's body struggled to heal the wound, so fast that the hook was stuck in well.

"Foolish human!" she muttered her attempts to free herself failing. Meanwhile, Shawn hung on for his life. He pressed the trigger that retracted the strong cord, trying his hardest to ignore his wounds. He was shot upward toward her demonic form, landing him right on top of her back. He whipped out his shotgun and blasted her head cleanly off. The body began to shoot down sharply, eventually crashing onto a branch and impaling her there on the spot. Shawn managed to jump a second before, the many branches smacking him and breaking his fall. Leaning on a branch near the ground, he took the time to assess what had happened and noticed Effeminette up above.

Shawn climbed down, saw her face attempting to reform.

"Wretched human, you cannot kill me!" she spat, struggling to free her body but to no avail.

"Well, looks like your body regenerated right around that thick branch. Gonna be hard getting out, unless you take the tree with you." He actually smirked, surprised with himself after all the injuries he sustained.

"Damn you, human! Damn you . . ."

"Shut your damn mouth!" he shouted, blasting off her head one last time, the silence heavenly as the sun began to rise steadily at his destination. Leaving her to rot on something much more natural than she was punishment enough, he supposed. With that last thought of accomplishment, he recalled her words on Vlad. He needed to hurry.

A L U C A R D

The sight was phenomenal. Vlad had revived perfectly. However, he wasn't in his human form, which was odd yet refreshing. Regardless, he marveled at the tall, muscular form he bore, the grey skin still restoring itself. He looked nothing at all when he faced off with him years back, causing to doubt his recollection. His face was not a face. It lacked eyes, its mouth was a toothy grin from left to right, and it didn't have much of a nose. Its wings spanned at least eight feet each greatly resembling a bat's. His claws were monstrously long, making that foul creation, Darkside, look like a chew toy. He stood at least twelve feet tall, and he wasn't fully done regenerating.

"Oh, how I've waited so long!" he sang, staring into the empty face it had. Alucard saw his reflection in the thick saliva it began to secrete, his face glorified in the grace of Vlad. In the short time that remained, it would all be over, his plan, his life, his struggle, and his reflection, too. Gone and sacrificed for the future of the world. And he didn't mind one bit.

S H A W N

It wasn't long before Shawn noticed the city up ahead. It was a morbid sight to behold. The place was obliterated, cars smashed into stores and buildings, plumes of dark smoke rising into the air from many unknown sources, and bodies strewn about to decorate the streets in a grisly scene of death. When he entered the first street, his intuitive voice inside yelled to leave, to just take the copter out of the city like Eva suggested.

Sure, it seemed to hold no purpose when he looked at the big picture; after all, he was minutes away from escaping the horrible nightmare. But it was there, that tiny suppressed thought in his head that told him things were weren't fine and peachy again.

_You know what those psychos are planning. Something really _bad_ is going to happen. Plus you can't get infected. You're the only one who can do it. Plus, there's Eva . . ._

Even as he thought of her, he began to wonder where exactly she could be. The woman was wily, but very presumptuous. She'd get slaughtered by "Randolph". Speaking of, Shawn also wondered what became of the bastard. It would be a pleasure to blast his useless carcass into a bloody pulp of nothingness.

A noise disrupted Shawn as he eyed the ruins of the unknown Romanian city. It sounded like a deep growling sound from somewhere in the city. It was so loud, it seemed as if it came from the city square. However, he could also hear chewing and snapping noises as well. It was the only sound in the area. In fact, he could swear there was nothing left in the city but the growling thing.

"Vlad . . ." he whispered.

He turned the corner reluctantly, freezing at the sight that slowly unfolded. A colossal figure with folded wings was gnawing at some red, fleshy bone, the creature appearing sinewy itself. It was crouched on top of a pile of bloody bodies, each with a tormented expression on the faces. Around the pile were vampires, too, all half eaten and ripped up into pieces. The behemoth tossed the body it was chewing on, and right in front of Shawn's tattered boots was that freaky man, the Randolph impersonator, dead and mangled with a sick smile on his face. The devil-look-alike turned its eyeless mess of a face right where he stood.

Speechless, his mind told him to just run, but before that could happen, he saw a laser light directed right at the devilish monster's neck, and-

PSHHH . . .

Some kind of dart-like object struck the human-shaped monster directly at the visible jugular vein. It shrieked horribly, like some monstrosity from a horror film. It jetted up into the air, appearing like some dragon. Four horns were projected from its forehead, and its wide, sharp-toothed grin took up nearly all of its face. Large muscular arms and legs held powerful, clawed appendages. It had death written on each strand of veins on its entire unnatural body.

It began gliding, ripping through buildings and wreckage as if they were just made of cardboard. Shawn remained in the same spot, not knowing whether running was worse than hiding.

"No turning back now," he thought sarcastically, his eyes training above where the sniper would apparently be. Climbing a building would most likely get him right where the monster wanted him-

-and it came swooping down, roaring like some mighty mythical creature of doom. Shawn used as much strength as he could to dodge the attack, diving at the last moment. A blast of wind it kicked up as it flew past knocked him over; one blow from any of that thing's body parts and Shawn would most definitely be a smoldered pile of flesh on the ground.

Shawn opened fire on it posthaste, the shotgun blasts tearing away at its leg. Strange blood gushed out and hardened on within seconds, repairing the wound in a flash. It almost seemed as if he did nothing to the beast.

Again, the sniper aimed at it and fired, only this time it was a rocket flying at it. The beast flew at a building and shot upward so suddenly, it appeared just like a fighter jet. The rocket was an utter miss.

It continued flying off into the distance only to make a backward dive and turn around, soaring back for its assailant. Shawn took out his Uzi and shot freely at the beast who veered in his direction for his blood.

"Oh, shi . . ."

Shawn dove behind a capsized car, the massive hulk of the creature blowing at the teetering vehicle. It spun in circles, nearly crushing Shawn where he stood.

_Gotta stall. Have to escape. _

The hum of a helicopter sounded from off in the distance, both startling and wracking Shawn nerves. It was the chopper Eva warned him about. If that hell spawned creature spotted it, his only means out of Romania would be blown to shit along with his life.

Shawn blasted away at the thing, its wings repairing too fast to tear. It began to salivate, the yellowish, bile-like substance landing on the trashed car and eating at the metal as if it were burning flames on paper.

"Shawn!" echoed a voice from atop of a building. She tossed the rocket launcher she used before, the weapon nearly ripping through an awning as it landed perfectly on it. "I'll distract it!" It was Eva firing, now, the machine gun shots smacking the monster all over its hardening body. The shots were starting to ricochet, the skin becoming much too tough. The beast bellowed its war cry, just as Shawn reached the awning. He climbed the nearest car and grasped the heavy, awkward launcher, the long weapon making him feel somehow reassured.

"Time to meet your maker . . ." Shawn whispered, the rocket blasting the demon directly at its back. It screeched sharply, a brilliant explosion illuminating the cloudy morning sky. It crashed onto the streets, with a earth-shattering _thud_. Shawn tossed the empty launcher aside, looking up to see if Eva was still up there-

-except the monster rose again, not a scratch on it! It managed to repair its wound immediately, regaining vitality. Although eyeless, it appeared to be looking at Shawn with interest, as if it had some unknown form of intelligence he couldn't comprehend. There was one final roar from it and Shawn noticed the dart in its still soft, fleshy neck, two more, then three. The beast went wild, slashing at everything in its path in an animalistic frenzy. It was obviously in excruciating pain, its color becoming a sickening pallor. It took off into the sky, swerving like a blinded bug and dive bombing somewhere into the desolated city. He heard the thing crash, even saw the gray smoke rise where it hopefully died for good.

"I-is it finally over . . . ?

Moments later, after collapsing against the wall of a café, he saw the helicopter overhead. He was drained, unable to even yell a word. His mind cried out frantically, but his body wouldn't react-

-and a flare flew up from somewhere nearby.

"E-Eva . . ."

Flashes of light faded into black as the scene changed, the city back at the infested town recurring. The zombies were back, as well as all the soldiers, his friends. Everything was wavering, twisting and turning. There was yelling again. And down an illuminated, main roadway were several men in suits and ties. They just stood there watching. The next thing he knew, there was a needle sticking out from his arm, and he was dazed. The attacks continued, several being picked off and eaten by human-like monsters, all bleeding and decaying. The men in suits were safe, though, and watching them with interest. His mind was getting foggy to the point that he could only keep shooting ahead of him. And like a cherry on top of a rotting cake, Albert Wesker came walking next to the fiendishly placid, serious men. He just stood there wearing black shades, silent. And at his side . . . Eva . . .

After passing out, Shawn awoke somewhere calm, serene. He was laying down, yet he couldn't get up. It took awhile for his disorientation to fade. Whether it was a flash of pain from his wounds or the nightmare that woke him up, he didn't want to be awake yet. And when his eyes opened half-way, he saw a woman tending his wounds. She had short, brown hair picked up in a ponytail, wearing a blanket around her body. Near her was a little boy, fast asleep. The realization hit him; knowing he survived was enough to console his battered body. He then went into a long-awaited slumber, no longer caring where he was going or what was next to come.

S A M A N T H A

The sun was up and seemingly brighter than ever, the sight outside the helicopter a beautiful blessing after the tragedy she had to bear witness to. So much death, yet the view made her forget it all, at least for the time being. The events that unfolded would haunt her for the rest of her life. But then, she thought about Drake and his cause. It made her feel stronger, like there was somewhere to go where she would most likely belong. Pretending that the past day didn't affect her would be an utter lie. And now, there was a place out there where she could exact revenge for the lives lost.

After speaking a bit with the pilots and medic, she continued to further patch the surviving man's shoulders, each one punctured by something she didn't want to imagine. He must've gone through hell, too; he suffered two fractured ribs, many cuts and scrapes, the punctures and minor head trauma. Her thoughts began to dwell back on Drake, reminding her of the papers he handed down to her. She hadn't mentioned them to the I.O.P.T men yet. Curious despite the nightmare she was involved in, she decided to take a look.

The first page were maps he found of various laboratories he'd been in. One of the diagrams were that of the lab they'd been in. The second sheet was a report he had typed up several weeks before the fateful day. On top was a title, "Drake's Report".

" _Oct. 23,_

_I managed to infiltrate a lightly secured laboratory in the Alps with the aid of my men. I believe it was an old Umbrella facility before they were shut down. Seems like they didn't have too much info on progress. Found several documents, though, that had some appeal to me. One of them stated the experiment they called Variable X, or much better known as Parasite X. _

_Surprisingly, it's rumored that the bio weapon was planned to be used as an enhancer of some major project those people were working on somewhere. No other document would further explain anything else, and all other documents/items were under heavy surveillance by guards, cameras etc. However, I was stunned to find out that there were at least twelve other facilities around the area. "_

The next sheet . . .

"_Nov. 8,_

_It appears there was a leakage of some sort, viral or other. My men and I are readying for any tough situations, although we don't know exactly how our luck fares as of yet. We do know that whatever the case, it's spreading like wildfire, the city we're in still in disarray. In the event where we cannot allocate any other items, I shall dispatch this packet straightaway. There weren't much, but they'll help us further understand our predicament with the U.S. government and Wesker. Apparently, our government is indeed cooperating with the madman, just as I feared. But not under their will, not to say they're being held against their will, for they lost it completely. It appears yet another B.O.W. is at work here._

_My work here is most likely done. My fellow men and I will depart to I.O.P.T. Personnel HQ in France, where we will meet with the British and French commissioners of the new top secret I.O.P.T. department there, who are obviously greatly troubled by the recent events and want to get involved with our current investigation. We shall return to HQ once things settle down._

_I wish you all the best of luck back there._

_Drake _"

"_File 1 - Biologist's Assistant Diary excerpt_

_Oct. 28_

_Today, we found a rather amazing link between the T-virus and the parasite. It appears that the two reacted almost immediately as opposed to the reactions between the parasite the other substances we've tried. The growth rate was perfect, unlike anything we've ever seen before. The virus helped repair the tissue, which is quite the opposite reaction you get at other times. I was inspired by this, finding this successful evaluation as a miracle. Perhaps HCF would find a more suitable use for it, like a cure for cancer? Who knows? All I know is that this is beyond fate. I shall be bound by project, and I won't quit until I learn more from it._

_Oct. 30_

_Just came back from the incubator room. Our specimen are looking greater as each day goes by. The incubator nurses say that they occasionally move. I knew there was a breakthrough with the parasite, but this is incredible! Still, I can't help but feel a little uneasy at the thought of growing new species of creatures. Isn't this discovery enough for now? Why rush into making weapons?_

_Nov. 1_

_It's night. I got scolded today for browsing through my superior's notes. It appears they've already began naming their bio 'pets'. The Manikins are apparently the MA-144's, which I thought were just plain creepy. And I heard in the report and from people like Richard, that they are truly killing machines. At one point, they thought about using their new underwater killers, the NS-120's, on live people, innocent people! I was appalled, so I released them into a lake where they'll die a quick death before they'd reach maturity. I figured killing them in mass that way was my best bet, for should reach maturity, their replication rate will sky rocket. I really enjoy my job here, but Mr. Wesker is taking his cause way out of proportion._

_Nov. 4_

_This will be my last entry, then I will have to escape from this hell. I'm leaving this here for anyone who finds this, it's all I can do for the others. The past few days felt like they never happened. I've been having blackouts frequently and my chest pain has only gotten worse. I firmly believe it was the cause of the 'vaccine' everyone in the lower departments needed to take. It must've been some kind of poison or something. Regardless, I plan to take the next plane in the nearest airport and I secretly hope everyone else draws the same conclusion. My proof? I went to deliver Crowley, my superior, my report on the_ _Manikins, and he was placing the bodies of other workers into cryogenic tanks to be frozen and saved for further experimentation. I refuse to end up like them. I never imagined they'd stoop this low, like Umbrella did. I will be . . ."_

The file ended just as it appeared. The next one, though, was a bit more disturbing. Sam squinted her eyes a bit to read the strange note.

"_File 2 - Evolution Theory_

_As the expert in my department, I have thought up a theory regarding the effects of Parasite X. Because of the T-virus enhancement, it was difficult to figure out the parasite's original behavior. Apparently, it was dying out quick before the T-virus was administered, leading us to believe that at one point it did thrive, but failed as an adapting life-form. _

_Regardless, there are some who, when administered with Parasite X, exhibit extraordinary feats, such as enhanced strength, modified tissued recovery, and abnormal blood plasma. We've yet to keep one in reserve for lack of handling, but there have been reports of extreme cultists who possessed amazing capabilities resembling vampires and monsters. This is because the parasite embeds itself in the chest of the host, mutating the veins and capillaries in such a way that blood is brought faster to the heart than the body can have. This results in what I call 'blood dehydration' in which blood thickens, and in some rare cases, dries up, causing an immediate need for blood; a similar trait the T-virus inherits. It seems the parasite shares the same blood, and since it requires about a third more blood than a human needs, this occurs._

_My theory has correlation to an ant colony. First off, it may help to say that the Progenitor virus, extracted from an ant's genes, was used to create the T-virus. And parasites, for the most part, usually work together like in a hive. What I came up with was quite obvious. Just as one of the average ants can end queen of the colony, so can the parasites. One out of several parasites grow to be much more competent than the rest, allowing for a potential queen. Because the Parasite X creatures work in groups, it's safe to say the strongest, or rather best evolved one will emerge to lead._

_My last thoughts on the parasite has to do with the Las Plagas. That parasite was less complicated, yet just as interesting. HCF has found that its use is boundless, since the queen can control its subjects nearly firsthand. In fact, it was said that if used accordingly, it could be used for mass control. "_

_Sam's eyes widened at the last thing the researcher wrote in the report, her heart sinking down into the pit of her stomach. _

"_It is also notable to mention that we've nearly perfected 'Darkside'. Our experiment failed to follow what we encrypted about three hours later. However, we did find something peculiar. We've watched its actions and behavior for awhile after his insubordination. It so happens that it mainly pursued those infected strongly with the parasite. Because it incorporates the parasite, my opinion is that it fights them to determine which is more superior in the 'hive'. Thus, it hunts the strongest of the strongest, killing them in the process. One might even say it would leave them unscathed so long as a stronger parasite remained in its presence. Then again, this is solely a hypothesis. We shall continue experimentation . . ."_

Sam thought back at the incident with the rampaging monster and the boy. And even before that, it attacked Drake first, who was infected. But if the monster went specifically for the boy, what could that mean . . . ?

She took a look at Devon and jumped lightly when she noticed he was sitting up staring at her. His face was serious.

"Is something wrong?" he asked monotonously.

"N-No, everything's fine," she replied with a smile. The boy frowned.

"I was having strange nightmares."

"About what, sweetie?"

" . . . I don't know," he said with a puzzled look. "There were a lot of people in a dark room. They all looked like me, but they were different. They all had . . . ugly faces. They stared at me funny. For some reason, I . . ." He paused, looking down in shame. Sam waited, her smile turning into a nervous frown. "I wanted to kill them. I don't know why, but I did. I wasn't angry or anything . . ."

"It's okay, just go back to sleep. Everything will be okay once we reach the big building. It'll take only an hour. Everything will be okay." She gave the boy a hug, half feeling fear and half feeling pity. And in the back of her weary mind, she knew the horror was yet to be over.


	16. Chapter 16

Epilogue

The morning sun just peaked over several mountains off in the distance, the light surprisingly relaxing after the events that ensued. Eva basked in the light, wearing pitch black sunglasses. Her wounds were healing nicely, another surprise on its own considering what she went through.

The hum of the helicopter slowly dissipated, the perfect sound she wanted to hear. Shawn escaped. With that thought calming her nerves a bit, she took a long look at the fallen brute before her. Had it really been Vlad the Impaler, the man who was ultimately thought of as "Dracula"? She decided it no longer mattered. Dwelling on intellectual topics was the last thing she wanted to do at the moment. The monster was pale, sickly pale with its body thinning and its scars and scabs purplish like a squid. The skin's texture also appeared like one's. And to think, all that time she lived and she never even saw the movie.

Eva took out a small device from a pocket in her leather jacket; she saved the important items and apparel in a safe place near the city. She flipped it open and saw Wesker's face turning to the screen.

"How did it go?" he asked somewhat amused, yet not a single expression on his solemn face.

"Oh, like I always dreamed!" she joked. Her forced smile faded quickly and she began speaking immediately. "Like I said before, I failed to acquire the sample in the lab thanks to a random explosion that took the majority of the place down. But . . . the body of the king of all Parasite X kings is down here right now, and dead."

"Really? I'm very impressed. We could use the specimen for studies and extract the parasite all at the same time. Astounding." His facial aspects seemed to falter a little, but he was the same as always. At first, he appeared intimidating, but he wasn't any threat to her in any way. Besides, he only lived for about thirty to forty years tops. Eva has been around for _much_ longer than that.

"Well, I guess I'll just wait for the chopper," she stated as much as reported. Wesker nodded in approval.

"I shall see you at eighteen forty-five. Over and out."

Eva smirked, putting away the gadget as she contemplated. She then raised her gloved hand up to her right temple and hit some switch.

"Eva to HQ."

"Ah, Miss Eva," came a feminine voice from her hidden receiver, "I was beginning to worry. Everything okay?"

"Hmm. Better than I expected, although I did run into some minor difficulties. I just finished speaking with Wesker."

"He's been worrying all of us ever since his plans swung into motion. Well, elaborate on your assignment."

"I allowed Shawn Brown to escape, just as you ordered. However, instead of the sample, I've managed to subdue an ancient beast, the mother of all mothers, if you will."

"Oh, well this is interesting. At least with Brown around, we have a small chance for that alliance."

"That's not all. I've already taken another 'sample' for you as well, one you'll be quite fascinated by yourself, although this one was a female impaled on a dead branch. Ironic. I've also taken the liberty of contaminating Wesker's sample, set to auto-deterioration by the time it hits the labs."

"Excellent," Eva's superior exclaimed, sounding much more enthused than Wesker had. "This will ruin his efforts to create those 'super hunters' he was working on. We've hindered his plans enough. Now we must take even more drastic measures to ensure he fails and we succeed."

Eva's eyes sharpened for a split second as she remembered yet another thing to report.

"Wait, there's something else."

"Well?"

"I sensed someone with the highest potential the parasite could offer. His name was Drake from I.O.P.T. I have been keeping a close eye on him, frequently sending in the camera spiders. When I got the chance, I'd sneak a peek. Last I saw of him, he was sitting on the ground speaking to a woman but, he appeared dead seconds later."

"And, what's so important? Get to the point."

"The big mystery revolves around his death. I confirmed it when the camera took a heat-detection test on his body. Once I was forced to help Shawn after stubbornly following me, I checked up on him only to find his body missing. All three of the spiders couldn't find a single trace of his body anywhere."

". . . Well, unfortunately, it won't matter. In a little while, the various higher-ups of this country will use heavy explosives to obliterate the area, albeit not the landmarks, such as Bran Castle. He wouldn't survive the attack."

"And if he does? You and I both know it's possible. I even . . ."

"Yes, I know," the woman replied seriously, "we'd have to step in, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there, and hopefully before Wesker. You've been a great help, Eva. Your amazing gifts have gotten us ahead of Wesker . . . and HCF."

The helicopter Wesker had sent arrived, the bird hidden somewhere at the east. She saw the glint of sun hitting smooth metal, the spinning propellers and the suited men inside giving her the "secret operative" feel again.

"Oh, and one last thing, Ms. Wong," Eva blurted out softly.

"Yes?"

"I want a new bike."


End file.
